

In the soundless storms of aeon,
there’s a cascade at the folding vein;
Allied into musty submission,
there’s light somewhere in hazy cognition.
The dereliction steered in frenetic howl,
Combust the wild temper of my soul.
There’s a thread of pain to swallow,
that de-threads all my desires to follow;
In this hazy sessions of unvoiced thoughts,
I sigh the gain of many wonders I wrought.