Within the callous of dreams; many wishes follow.

Does the stark reality have its screams, when there is nothing to swallow?

Not a moment of truth; to lie for the thought.

Burning with the flame of soothe, that just came and sat.

Covering the secrets with a cauldron; To protect it from the blow of dice.

Meaning less are the sermon, to the spoken words that much nice.

Balancing the grays; and of the darkest blues.

Visualizing the things that stay; with the slightest of clues.

Towering the clouds; with materials of the sane.

Distinguishing the rave of the blood; originated from the ashes of the men.

Reaching for the steps; made towards the heaven.

Stumbling on the paths filled with depths; carrying a mind that need no govern.