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?