Finally,
the clouds have begun their retreat...

The sun doth play its tricks
as it hides behind the clouds. So fast...

Emptiness is no void,
nor lacking, nor nothing...

Where the suns gleam doth but graze
the subtle crest of the broken waves...

In a hazy forest of silver tinted fog
I came upon two figures stirring before me...

They say that a life barren of that which makes us...
(of experience of course I speak), is one not...

Sometimes I lay awake at night
with not a single sheep in sight...

A mother is a miracle
of the best and greatest kind...

Laughter's shadow tried to smile
as Sadness sat to cry...

I look to the trees,
begging them...

He said to me, so subtly
no more a whisper than a shout...

Sickly sought a new facade, so
asked, of this to Inhibition...