No direction,
Nor any intention.
Nothing to find on my path of blind
Faith in your shadow.

I am but an unique actual observer,
Not to believe that what I discover,
Only to provide that which you request
And to accept that what you say,
Is what’s best.

If I am but to completely vanish
Into a free transparent layer,
Remember that in your time of need
Twas only I that was there.

Slithering skin forged into armor
by design, the highest quality of steel.
So diaphanous yet opaque,
a finely sculpted guise.

Today the scales are made of bronze,
tomorrow ebony or maybe gold.
The tireless smith works late into the
night, pursuing perfection undefined.

When the blessed night arrives
the armor's lain delicately aside,
always ready to be unsheathed
lest a new face or two should arrive.

Slumber is no longer silent,
dreams are fuelled by the next design
To fool the specatator into thinking
that the wearer is one of their kind.

Mirrors offer no reflection,
neither fair nor foul.
Only the gilded armor shines,
ever quenching the once human soul
That forged its' own demise.

A bright floating matter
Untainted, Sinfully pure.
Struggling to release itself upon the world,
It can be the only cure.

Ignorant, we ignore its existence,
Tis far easier to walk on by.
For a moments acknowledgement
Means questioning the embedded lies.

As the sand creeps downwards
Within its glassy prison,
Our only hope to survive
Is to remove our rose-tinted prisms.