What is that that keeps you
gloved?
Is it your hallway to Darkness,
a clairvoyant abyss,
or a motley color of deception,
with no place to miss?
Such foul smelling things
that we mistakenly call bliss.
Is it so wrong?
Is it so wrong to love?
Is it so wrong to think?
Is it so wrong to feel?
Is it so wrong to hear?
The sound of your laughter,
the sound of your cries,
the hope that transpires,
that holds deep surprise
ever changing, ever tired,
are all things despised,
never hoping, only knowing
when all things unite.
So is it wrong to love, and to think?
To feel and to hear?
To wonder no more
what others might think?
Only to listen to the voice, wherein we will rise,
and fall no more as the prey of mankind!