The venerable one's Doctrine was crowned upon us Humanity's noontide gain... But the king was a phantasm The crown but a porous withered wreath Upon a tattered grimace Our myopic gaze Of a diaphanous tenet Occluded all thought Of solidity Encircled by the frail cannon Beset by the strength of support The confines of validity Are entrenched in rough soil Traces of the forms Dance on the wall... Unrelenting iron Sleek cold steel Clings to our wrists As a vulnerable child (To the stoic guardian) The dead weight of This permeable helmet Anchors us to the motionless rocks of chaos Reflections of fidelity Distillations of veracity Specters of substantiality (Cavort upon the wall) Must this burden Be bourne unto our backs As the world On Atlas' shoulders? If we were to lose Our grip on the globe Could we laugh As we witnessed it Crash into the stars? The explosion will shower us In the elements of experience Encumber us with the weight Of reality... Yet free us by serving as the lustrous key To our rusted manacles Traces of the forms Dance on the wall In time with flames That provide false warmthTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
