Adrift into Collapse

Wrought dreams

Of dim, black conviction

Your center cannot withhold

When belief falls apart

Of cold, bleak effluence

And into the shapes of oblivion

When belief falls apart

In the shape of oblivion

Raised from the mound of solitude

Left there to inhabit

The untouchable

Behold

A dying generation

Passing in rates of certitude

Slowly leaking into the past

Shrouded by monuments of failure

Wrought dreams

Cold, bleak effluence

Of deep, black conviction

Summon the descending stairs into

A dialog between soul and self

Gaze upon the steep ascent

Tethered to where thoughts do end

Tethered to where thoughts do end

Long past our imagination

Tarnished by ancestral vouge

The tongues of stones making claims

When intellect, no longer knows

Ignorant courage

Your smile covers all distress

If we could exist once more

What thoughts will never be?

But if it changes it all

What happens to the things we love?

Where did you go?