What is it that insists
Mirrored disenchantment.
A malediction of despair.
Wretched fears once dormant
Now scream their dissonance.
Despondency enslaves virtue
By the fault of all lost days
Against the surging of a waterfall
Lies the sphere of chaos
In a feverish dance
While pulsing like a storm
In place, and with limitless potential
A looking glass within ourselves
A lens of gained rewards
Trinity's third eye
Earned by the handling of this kinetic sphere
and shattering the looking glass.
And burning all it's aftermath
All it's ill-earned laughs.
To watch yourself as a different self and spirit
Understand a tought as digits.
As a divinity above yourself.
