I
The mark of time signs
for the painted sun to falls
Dying light set the stage for a play
of an unending irony into the fray.
buying from the butcher,
he pick the reddest of the meat,
pretends it is juicy and pretends it is tender
still he have no desire to eat.
Yet he have to! he must!
for the sake of his breath
not turned into dust  
and within the cast of the cash
All flesh deemed to be so fresh.

II
The curling up smoke,
tobacco flakes melts under its flames,
the buds are starting to yellow,
And so it goes.
He counts the clock, from one hand into another,
as seconds turns into minutes, and minutes turns into hours.
And so it goes.
a break of silence by the door!
her footsteps! The lady in red wear her heels
and in an instant, she take them off.
Step by step, she strides with traces of grace,
and He knew it from her face,
and She knew it from his face.
He was astounded and filled with haze.
Her gaze of pure indifference
distilled into a vague silence.

III
The war is brewing, a war in terror
in this room, there is no room for error.
in his word, there is no word of fail
in his body to become frail.
His sword bind to his hand
not by love,
and her shield covers her face
from shame.
The clash of blades!
glittering reflecting of faces
in a mirror
glances and trembles
Is it fear or
bitter?
His matter, silent and eternal
shatters
-- primal, carnal as an animal.
In his world of pure reflection,
his eyes, my eyes, clear as air, clear as time,
and knows he is a divine swine
he wonder and screams
‘DId I traverse the abyss or the sky?’
Behold the judgment between kindness or crimes!
She whom walked on corpses started to cry
for she have done this a million times.

IV
for I cannot feel
so I tried to touch.
The treaty was signed
by the ones whom blinded by the bind
and within a flash,
this bond bounded by cash
left him with nothing, but a pile of ash.