Here comes the countdown,
The ring of twelve awaits,
I lay bare in my chamber,
Nothing past this will ever equate.

He never came through the window,
Nor did I catch his shadow,
To take me to his Netherland
And live as innocence incarnate.

The fresh second has passed,
I inhabit the other side,
I stand sheathed among the others,
I stand as Adam, with dignity
By my side.

The ship is leaving from the shore,
Here are my records from life abroad,
The twelfth ticking finger; the other side,
Aboard the Grand Expectation, at high tide.

I remember those days in practising
Youth, to obtain those leisure’s, I
Now pursue. Wishing for time to burn
Away whilst the paper’s smoke, astray.

I have no hand to follow,
Only my own two feet,
Down the path to *‘prepare the face,
For the faces that I will meet.’

My shelter has been broken,
I face this open world,
Life expels, whilst hope
Is tortured and contorted.

Yet, I will find a place to stand,
Among a band of life’s grand
plan, To sit with the others,
Plated in Dionysian armour.

We will set upon the stage
And light Pandora’s candle,
So the last flicker of hope,
Will blind Failure’s scandal

And I will look back,
At the awe of innocence,
Through eyes who have seen a
Thousand smiles, whilst laughing

We are Life’s but inner-child.