...Paths amongst forked tongues
choosing the right was light
or what he thought
the light of chance of the right
A scent of fool's gold
Dead trees amidst the breathing
caught by the blind
Treading with the rustling leaves
remnants from a time
when emeralds dropped a morning dew
wading through sinful tears
sorrow of a dying lotus
sinking into a drown
a sheer cliff into the abyss
And as the depth
thrusts a cold dagger
doubts faded to an inevitable
loss...