How perfect is he?
He that was once then,now is gone,
He that was once there,disappears
Into the mist of the horizon.

Crucified in the name of change,
His anatomy turns blue and strange.
His colours slowly fade away.
Washed out like the filter on the shore,
Of his innocence we shall hear no more.

Who is he that brims on the past rivers?
In twinkling stars  of the night he shivers.
His truth is hidden in the dark of a new age,
His mystery is covered by the birth of rage.

How this story ends
Is the beginning of another dimension,
Altered and twisted by rash decisions.
When this ones story is born,
We all wish for yesterday to come back
And die to stop the morrow's drum.

The most precious and rare of jewels
Are found in the darkest of caves
Under the most intense pressure
Beneath the dirt and detritus
Only those equipped with a pickaxe forged of patience,
A gentle hand,
And a discerning eye
Will be lucky enough to find
These raw jewels in the rough
Whose beauty lies well beneath the surface
You may machine cut and polish
Synthetic stones all you like
However, there is no comparison of worth
To jagged jewels which have been ripped from the earth,
Washed, refined, and faceted with the care
Of a kind and gentle hand

The way her bones glitter:
it is rather beautiful
The way she sines
The way she LIGHTS up this world around me
Inside each bone of her thousands of stars burning themselves to shine
To bring the hidden beauty out of her
She glitters everything around her