Cultivate the demon

who glances side-to-side

allow the season

on Earth abide

​

history is distant memory

from the knife-edge of time

while future is an up-and-coming legacy

wrapped in imagination like rime

​

a storm of waves

swirls around us

making us slaves 

of our terminus

​

dark tones upheave

disgusting my landscape

particular perceptions deceive

the route of escape

​

free us immortal coil

into the wild black

to be laid upon the soil

reposed upon our back

​

sing a song 

to our fellow

that we'll live long

and in age, mellow

​