An elegy echoes from a high place, toward ardent souls parading below.

Cascading sculptures are carried by failing effervescence…
Masses are laid anxious; by irrational passion to venerate the superior.

A culture unchallenged is tolerated in its precedence to death and questionable redemption.

Here the tradition is exposited:

It is said that by the touch of HIS ornament, that of his imitated form, will provide the requester of their plea.
In light of HIS agony and validated glory this belief was prescribed.

So it is that souls are driven.
HIS arms gilded, HIS face adorned.

But by a mad riot for this achievement we find no acuity for complacence.
A tremendous depth of perdition is much predestined.
Harsh and vital consequences cannot be halted in its continuance.

Inevitable fury fall with tears on feet wounded; screams of worship increase amongst hopeful delusions.
Blood remains as these intrepid helots pass.
Marching forward with their thinking misaligned and unreliable, debris of retreat no longer exists.

A disserted option must be initiated to avert disruptiveness and voluminous loss.

A journey most unhurried...
A guise of religiosity quite mordant …

Each breath constrained and succumbing, each fretting step prized.
Fortunate are the survivors, let prayers fill the dead.

Young and intuitive
But hard headed and ill sensed
Loving and affectionate
But volcanic and disruptiveness
Kind and witty
But also too shy and silly
What do you call her?
A lost soul in her own body
Watching the world go by
Magnifying others highs, to begin feeling low
Low to the dead bottom
Where the skeletons lay, is where she always goes
While the sun still shines down on her
Giving her a guidance to a way out
But her will is so broken and her heart is so shivery
All she knows is misery
So she slips and falls back right to where she feels she belongs
Deep in the ground
No flesh, all bone
Where she imagines she would not know
Anything that would continue to pierce her poor soul
And some of the ache
She brought upon herself
Putting her heart on the shelf because she sees too much good in others that she forgets about who matters, and that is all of herself
Her health, her heart, her whole entire brain
This girl is just insane, and she still does not know who to blame
But thinks again and remembers she is intuitive
And the answer screams the devil is playing ring around the rosey,
Dancing all around me
Wanting her to get burned
Although she never does, the heat strikes very high
And by that time she's already climbing back to sanity, leaving that spiritual immorality
So if the fire cannot touch her
why does she just sit
Oh yeah, its the fear that she will hit to miss
Its the fear of not knowing if she will have this monster conquered held by his throat, helpless and cold in less than a year or so
Cause time is ticking and shes not getting any younger
Time is ticking, its no time for getting dumber
Its not time to get numb,
Its time she finds herself
And shows the devil who really won
Who knows how to win, how to fight, how to swim
Because i am a mermaid, and i rule the sea
I am the air that knows how you breathe
I am the sun that knows your body temperature
I am the winds that can send you all sorts of pressure
I am the mountains that will not collapse
And i am with god who would never let that monster get a pass
So who wins? Is it me?
yes,
Cause at the end of the day, i am the one who got back up and is moving forward, humble and free