Is there a word to describe how I allowed it to happen?
Each day that passes I frown at what I carry in my mind
Without taking a stand I awaken far away from who I am
For in humble comfort it is behind closed eyes I hide

As I lay under a canopy of floral blue sky windows
The things that have passed beg for my forgiveness
The light I see offers nothing in return for my gaze
Except to blink away the clouds of my weakness

He became death reaching his zenith rationally
The glass maker could only explain himself to ambition
The pollen he transported under his wings simply worked
And he created the fear that became the human condition

There was no consult with his maker for he was not the executioner
If not by him, by whose hand would Kings wield their power?
Though he knew all the saints died in the fires of human inquisition
His revulsion quietly buried his triumph in the garden of dishonor