16 July 2024

This time under demonic dominion will come to an end,
sped on by shooting stars and lightning.
The tree of life.
The tree of wisdom.

The giants polluted the Earth, and it lay desolate and moribund.
The alarm bell is rung repeatedly and at a high frequency so that a continuous sound emanates that becomes so familiar, it disappears.
Furthermore, the continuous sine wave accrues pitch and volume slowly enough so that no one notices.
We are buried in layer upon layer of despair.

You say I am dust? No way!
Already, the tinge of death hangs on my lips.
The shield around my head grows dim.
The innocence of boyhood fades.

Crying or grinning?
The more layers I apply,
the more effort I go to,
the less I see.