Agile is the human mind
Fast and blurry in its thinking
Craving the ultimate truth
Missing the essential sight
Trapped in a paper box it is

When nature’s pure rain comes
Washing away the paper,
The mind grows insane
In search for the perfect prison
Itself

Sick is the sleeping willow
All it’s roots became straight
His words are cold minerals
Branches hang like lead

And tired is the willow
Tired of all its being
Trying to scream his words he fails
Becoming like concrete
The pungent smell of rust overwhelms

Thou who shall forsaken the architect
Dark afterlife will follow
And in the scorching pits of the abyss
Will spend myriads of decades

Forever following a forgotten dream
Of happiness and love, unreachable.
Hearts will burn in diamond furnaces
Hopes in wooden barrels, let to rot.

Souls will wander through the cold wind
With the chests wide open
And with the mouth sewn shut.
They will never feel warm love

Bugs will be crawling under skin
For each missed love
Tortured souls remembering
All the harm caused.

In golden mirrors
Covered with radiant gems
Loved ones will be
To torment lost souls.

Though is the granite
And smooth is the soil within
All matter is condensed in one
All is in motion
All in the dark
The circle must remain perfect

Deep within the forest's heart,
Lies down near the edge
A pink spirit shrouded in a misty light
From far realm's she came.

With perfect harmony her thoughts evade
Calming down to the bone every shape
She starts twisting and turning
Shapes are following her...learning.

But while she glances at them
The shapes change
Smooth they become
Trying to learn her way

Shapes become fragile, they might break
The spirit comes and caresses their mind
Fixing the sharp edges
With her gentle tones.

Singing in a celestial manner
She align’s the shapes structure,
So that even the crystals wander
How could the shapes be so lucky.

Her blinding beauty shines
Striking all the sides and edges,
Fixing them up,making them radiate
Absolute peace,they find this way

Sometimes the spirit while helping
Cuts itself on the sharp edges, making them feel grieved,
But with love and passion
She whispers kind sound.