And after all the light, it seems has gone.
And after all the bells did toll.

After breath,
After you blink away the nightmares.

It's almost just...tradition.

And after all the light, it seems has gone, I find myself lying in a room staring at the walls. I guess the day derives itself from these four walls. I wake up in the morning and they are still. I leave and they exist. I will never know that these walls have broken. So perhaps permanence is only an idea. A fading ritual like blinking. To know everything is still just beyond the eyelids. Someday we might venture beyond the blacks of our four walls. Of our skull that has become a prison.

After all the bells did toll, I found myself in the same room. The same four walls. Night by night, day by day. Each hour passing, I feel fixated on these four walls. This hollow skull. And we become trapped by this idea of permanence. That all things are as they always are. But in times pass, it will conclude that one day these walls will be torn down and new walls will be built.

As with our walls, as with our skulls. Some day to be put to rest. Sent out, with no candles and no path. Sent to find a tunnel with light at the end of it.

And after all the light, it seems has gone, I find myself yet again in darkness. A permanent darkness that is only an idea. But after all the bells did toll, I was found in permanent light.