Enemies of old, Empires of Gold, now dust
Our selves: always righteous, angry but just,
Despite Battle cries, cold wars becoming obsolete,
Enemies of old, now in Hell fire's slow shallow heat,
Measures taken before any action,
Disguised dark angels are no distraction,
Nor they change, nor back pedals, no retraction,
Stealing our light, Our Glory to dust, they're only attraction,
Shadow stalkers Shadow Walker,
Shadowy worships, the world becoming darker,
In the moments we live, do we live or even exist?
What knowledge, what lessons of past have we ever missed.
All in bliss, A war of times old,
Both Primordial light, dark never fold,
Truly all evolves, if persistent,
Both light and dark, dancing, apart or coexistent?
Emotions, sensations, deep and subtle,
Through Slow movement, the faster we scuttle,
Both evil and fear, when dark moments near,
Feelings, mechanisms, both light and dark become clear.
Presence a must, in self: Trust,
Demons of old, even empires of gold, all now turn to dust.
