Forgotten winds rip through this paradigm
Drifting through this inconstant race
Falling into this illusionary pace
Searching for the dusty phantom I wait.
This quintessence of laced hate pounds
My head throbs
Silky echos fill my face
The yearnings of them so bold so much hope
Hope for the blinded wings on which we fall.
Like winter sun
Like childhood love
Like golden dreams
Like a butterfly crossing the sea
Like a ribbon in the wind
Being what does not belong,