Grieve a past time and all the nuanced intuition that made up your mind
Breathe another thought trapped between structure and function
What part is mine, I can't decide?
The intentions - in question - fade quickly - from measure
What can these dreams tell outside elaborate reflections of imagery - a symbolic mass
Builds the walls of minds, refracted visions, and a delicate mirage of
Plumes blooming turbid delusions
And truth's hidden, brutish religion
Conjuring mental enigmas
That come forth as realized solution
If treated by solely logical conclusion
Choosing to feel an inhuman amount
The threshold of abstraction bleeds out of the man
Pleading to be left to experience reality even in doom
Can death be light in the eyes of the eaten
Or is pain preceded by no ether?