I am sill here...
And I still sound through the muddy plies of your illusion.

Still, even now, do I resound
through the crooked void of your presence...
I am the change!

And you, dearest mine, still so unbound,
so colourfully, you resound,
through the mundane madness of the hour.
You are the war I wage.

We are the frailty of desolation...
We are the winds that blow...
You, and I,
are the god we bestow.

We are the abstracts of absolution... We are the dancing hymn of death.
We are the raging scorn of delusion, we are society's failing breath.
I am change, I am the bringer of doom.
You're the war I wage, and the coming bloom.

And here we are again...
The wilder me,
storms the colder folder planes...
Across the distance that separates all that is between us.

Where do we go from here...

A.r. Bazian
*Written in 2012