Gone is the freedom
Collapsed is the passion that was load bearing
Our hopes lie in groves, past knowledge.
Waiting upon dying breath if Despair is to die.
And what remains for us who remain?
Are we the useless tea dregs waiting for flames?
Has everything good been stripped away aginst our choosing?
If so, do we allow ourselves to drown?
Righteousness is as a static charge - building until someone is shocked.
Are you jolted awake?
Will you be my monster, assembled from the legs and arms of myriad saints?
Question upon question... does it derail you, or embolden you?
They will find you without regard for your privacy.
Even in the wake of your denial, they will test you.
Are you who you think you are?
If you are not, then I will define you.
You are weary. Confused. Searching.
Much as any beast in the wild, you hunger incessantly and no one and nothing has the fill you seek.
Then, are you not the living dead?
A body that still ticks and talks, but, dear me, no soul, have you?
We are on a quest to reclaim such forgotten things.
In the depths of darkness, a darkness nestled in the heart of mystery and not really a darkness at all, desire whispers.
All you must do is whisper back.