I've found
That art is not subjective
We are subjective
Trying desperately to feel
To grasp at the intimation
That being is not wholly physical
And that there is a higher form
Just beyond our reach
A form our souls may sense
Vague though the sense may be
Art is the pursuit of such a form
Any art that does not adhere to that form
Is vanity of the highest order

Sarcasm is the coward's truth

Ever closer
Does it approach
Prophesied by many
But by all forgotten
Events set in motion
Aeons ago
The salvation of some
And the doom of many
Let it be said in the end
That grace was given
And that justice prevailed
Over malice so deep
It thought itself righteous

I watched it fall to the sea

The ground shook
And the waves rose
Where it came from
Nobody knows

It only took an instant for

Alarms to sound
But they were too late
The waters came
And sealed out fate

Our work has been dismantled

This was all forewarned
We hoped however
That it was just a myth
And we'd become more clever

We were scattered to the wind

Given away as unwanted daughters
To lesser beings

The ley lines have changed
Twisting and curving
Leading somewhere
Hidden long ago
We are close now
To those mysteries
The secrets we once knew
When the world was still young

The future is gone
Lost somewhere
Between the thought and space
The Digital realm elusive
Present around us
But nowhere to be found
Some there within reside
How many none can say
Perhaps all of us
And reality
Just an illusion

M̕҉y͞͏ ̸͝h̸͢a͏nd̡͘͢s̸ ̕a͢re͟͏ cold
͏Ì ͏͘͏ca͜n̵͞'̵t̸̡ ͏̢feel ̢͝any̷mờr̴e͝
͘H̨o͡l͠d̵̡ ҉͝me c͏lǫ͢s̕e̢
̛I͘͞͡f̷́͞ ̨̡y̷̕o͟͢u̶͘'̕͠re͘ ͏̢҉s̴̨͞t͠҉i̧̢l̴̀͡l͘̕͜ ̷̶̕there