Their spirits wake me…

Tides of time, a bountiful sea.
Rested plainly upon my chin, a golden exhibit glistens and,
Fills the skies with rays of liquid Sol

Soul full of soulful delight
Suddenly, …night
Filled with fright
The cries of a mother, a child
Mild, in comparison to the carnage that laid to rest the best
Yes, the best. I said it. I mean it, the best.
That laid to rest the best. Not them, not us.
We, who’d rather be out at sea
Washed ashore to coves laden with a strange kin
Is it truly a sin to wonder, yonder.
Where doth seals seal the fate of those who abate time.
Such a crime, a misdemeanor, a missed demeanor was what befell the perilous god.
God of mischief, who laid a hand upon a golden exhibit.
Not that of he, but that of she.

She, who steals the hearts of many souls of many spirits, broken
But what could not be spoken, is, that of which she fills consciousness of.
But is she above me?

Has she the worth? Merited, deserved, and, PRESERVED by the sea?
The sea that I perceive?
The sea…bereaves us all of soul.
All of Sol. All of everlasting light.
A strange light that will soon bring fright to the masses.
Swings of swords, hammers, and battleaxes.
But before that, I must ask…this:

Why did you wake me?

Verse 2:

Do you stake claim to me?
Fake name to, lay in wake a false paradigm
Spared of time, a confluence of superfluous structure
A frame of mind
A frame of mankind
A false façade, wrapped tightly round the whimsical sobriety of
Established society
Pouring amber waves of cray
Cray, to prey on a freedom laid upon in strife with the congeniality of,
False duality
Police brutality, or
Illegality of spiritual punctuality

We are, truly, a slave to time
The, diaspora of co-mingling membranes
Vainly and plainly laden with burden that we,
Seek to extinguish in our own places,
Revealing pale, ghoulish faces, eating away at the fibers of our content of character.

Flirtations with the idealistic mind collide with chronological complexes
Prophylactic didactic synergy of, time and space, and
space and mind, and
The, Prime Directive dictating to mankind, and
Maybe we just need to unwind
Take our…time

Stay on our grind, and bind the very shackles that restrain
Retrain the impressionable, malleable orifices and cavities
Strife with brevity
Our, cerebral complexes, tresses to the stresses of,
Cosmic occupation
Fatigued by the re-orientation
Establishment of purpose
Place,
Time,
And Space
A space, he, the one who loved and lost,
At a tremendous cost, can never replace
He must face,
The inevitability,
The virility and longevity
Harmoniously co-existing in a demi-deistic
Egotistic, yet, ballistic
Stream of consciousness
Waves lapping at the golden brown sands of time,
Prime real estate to the sublime
Laying testament to, the,
desolate chasm, of
A void, infinite