The leaflet reads:
“Be mindful of your desires,
be careful
where they come from
and where they’re heading.
Use drive to drive choice.
Be the one who decides
before you join in
and follow along.
Otherwise
the path to your freedom
is then walked down
bare feet and bare mind.
The good ol’ valley of yours.”
Inside your own head, own voice,
while taking a handful.

Dare I tell a tale, oh so eerie,
faces go pale, senses are lost,
as knell overflows the hearing,
unheard, hair fall tossed,
blood brought to a boil.

It opens with moss and greenery,
hinting a shallow soil,
painting the scene peaceful, serene,
but the coating is fresh and thin.
Like something was quickly covered beneath,
the way you'll surely hide behind a grin
the grinding of your teeth, in just a moment.
"Why the rush?" comes a thought—
good, nicely caught, but no spoilers.

The deed that's done here,
spawned by a curse like no other—
It cannot be cured, and only endured
siphoning the life of another.
Cruel is fate of those who astray
and open up hearts to darkest of arts
allured by their offer.

Reading through verses of old,
they want to behold the world
through the eyes of their foul sires,
and learn from grim tomes
the knowledge untold, until they’re absorbed
and molded akin, so they, too, may sin
with the same sins, following the same desires.

Now, I'm really sorry, but here ends the story,
my gourmet hunger satisfied, you were most kind!
You see, I'm of such readers, I am accursed, and I've rummaged
through the purse of your lifespan for quite some time.
But this was much needed! I hope you don't mind!
Just please turn the page and I'm sure you'll be fine!

That kind of longing you learn once you miss.
Goes by a name only a heart knows how to pronounce,
and doesn’t hesitate to call when you care to listen,
so it absorbs as it unfolds yours every ounce.

Of all the things, it’s absence that can’t be overcome,
a void of crushing torment you have to sustain
alongside hope that one day it will leave.
But that’s like hoping for a night of clear skies
that guides your way home in the middle of the storm.
You might as well sink. As there’s no burden
heavier than the love you can’t give.

Wave after wave, a playful gale flurries,
To the outstretched palm of Mother Nature,
Each tamed to a steady caress,
As she tends, lovingly nurtures,
Her arboretums underwater,
Where blooms and seaweed sway, unbothered.

An albatross aloft, above,
Not biting on wind’s game of riddles,
Indifferent to which way comes gust,
Unfazed, steadfast, like sky-held buoy.

Then blows my way, at last,
Someone to toy - I’m not as rigid,
And flutters my lips to swear out dust.
I fall for it so easily. Oh boy.

How many lose their way
in woods that stand in grace,
in everlasting silence,
like in a fog shrouded,

that can’t be pierced with eyes
and thickens as you stare,
so wanderers, unaware
of how to cross these parts,
their constant search for signs,
they fear they cannot bear.

Once felt led astray,
they pick up the pace
and turn words to prayer
with inner strength united.

A voice that casts its spells,
to brace, fight, and repel
apparitions and wraiths
that it had just invited,

to make a rightful claim
on what it cannot gain,
as it cannot be lost
by conquered trees and ghosts.

Then back to where it started,
to woods that stand in grace,
in everlasting silence,
like in a fog shrouded.

When tiresome rowing takes its toll,
Brings dare to care for what's beneath.
Long lost memories emerge from darkness,
Like the drowned, following surface call.
A cry for help, left with no answer,
Now meets our dread, begging release.
Reunion with those we once held dear,
Only to recognize their faces,
Their silhouette, their traits. Identify them,
To call old sorrows by their name.
We know them truly, to their core,
And wish were spared from this truth.
We close their eyes, bring them ashore.
A rescue arriving long overdue.

But the final push has yet to be made—
To find room for love in a grieving heart.
Where we can lay them to their grave,
Bid farewell, before we part.
With each epitaph, every tombstone,
Each pain brought where it desperately yearned,
To end the suffering, rejoice salvation,
Our own anchorage lessens weight.
Encouraged, we’re back to the boat,
To keep on making the heroic choice.
One day, unburdened, we too will float,
Feel pure, cared, loved, and rejoice.

For long you've been haunted,
but finally, the chest breaks open.
At last, continue onward.
The final lock's been shattered.
But make no mistake,
resistance wasn't pointless.
As now within your grasp
its contents are for grabs.
It's all you ever wanted.
It's all for you to take.
It's all that ever mattered.
It's how you trigger traps.

Enchanted with prayer, mountain halls
Bejeweled by its people.
As light unveils their rocky spires,
Breathes in the dawn,
Combining force
Of two opposing powers—
Resilient mind and stone.
A binding of things equal.
They twist, they torque,
Erupt with fire fueled by brawn.
Solidified in shared desire
To bring a life to form.

The grace of the divine speaks itself into existence
As we wash our clothes, mourn the past, and dine,
As we close our eyes and listen.

The truth finds its thereabouts
And reminds itself again
That nothing is meant to last—
The restless mind disrupts.