All I see, may in fact be,
For beyond time, we pantomime,
The winds of prevailing mood.
When all throughout the endless dark,
Whispers cause to think indeed,
And finding peace with the blind,
Others dwell where light doth lead.
Perhaps the safest choice may lie,
Within hateful obscenity,
Just the same I would rather die,
Taking truth austerely.
For what it’s worth, I will give my best,
And search beyond reality,
To garner life from death.