Would you endure a lifetime full of demons
For one angel's sake? Would you devour a saint?
To preserve a fair world full of guilt?
To create something pristine, would you bear horrors maddening?
Standing at the gates of perception – the questions erupt from within:
The answers unheard a flood of words from the nescience spring
What is truth?
What is good?
Is there a hell?
How to tell?
... A flood of words so unstoppable as if it burst from 1:7,11.
Each spawning infinite considerations,
Each bearing a measured choice,
Each raising the agony of decision.
Gruelling lies the fact that every singular
Choice embraced leaves a thousand of its kind to die
Miserable, their swansong softly howling through cold nights,
A faint “nevermore” before passing into silence.
Attended by subtle violence
Each dead child spawned from the mind,
Is it a martyr for the parents sake, his salvation,
Or a victim for naught,
Rotting on a path long darkened?
Still, the questions remain the same:
Would you wander on as a whole town burns in the rear?
Would you stray
From the true path
To flee from this gruesome wrath?
Would you reckon that your life was branded by self-deception?
Would you realise when pure truth shines from your perception?
Are you sure that there can be only one answer?
That there’s only one gate to pass
Is it too late
To turn the page?
Was there more than just a single gate?
Now does it bother you?
Are you afraid?
That you can't turn the page...