without reason to perpetuate...
sing clearly the swansong of your suffering
let it resonate across the dark corridors of your regret
its agony a deep and cleansing richness..
the colour of real. the thickness of always.
imagine a world in which you created precisely what you cast down in the shadow of your idealistic discourse of utopia... imagine it and then recognize youve zero control over evn the most minute of whimsical detail.
every instance is a surprise, an unfolding unto itself,
foretold by no one..
and you are solemn in your quest for resolution i am sure,
but solemn lacks enterprise. its weak in its promise to give life.