There is an emptiness which the forests could not fix
Upon the rock of the pride stands fear betwixt
Between paths which cross in and out of the maze
There stands longing, holding on with grasping ways
This void victors over precise points colliding at times
Think tanks in rooms arguing realities and rhymes
Null, peace, zero. Existential quiet which calms the nerves
Like a rush of Ice cold water into the lungs two curves
The careless quietness perched upon the shoulder has a price
A keen fissure running up the sides a lightning bolt strike
The walls come down and plunder is ripe
Breeze through the air steals dust as one last plight
If this all let it be all yells the man in the square
The boundary of the city no longer clear
The earth shakes it's head hearing all
The ceiling cries with rocks ready to fall
Mercy is granted at the collapse
Essence is knowing what brings you back.
Christopher Baird 2011 ©
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