The light transcends through the echoes of the screams. With fingers outstretched the delusion of comfort turns formality into a burning wind that sparks the night. The peace stagnates into a woolen blanket of regret and stains the brows of those knelt to the conformity of despair and loss. It plasters it's infection into the innocence of a youth distracted from the path set long ago and so turns a blind eye to the change it brings. This levels the sentiment of hope and explodes through a blank sky of any aspirations and will. The words freeze in the chilled air that this torment brings like a violent wind through the halls of our being and shakes the very foundation of our hearts. The neglect turns the skin dry and cracks the lips and ages our eyes, and with every sting halts our prayers, it is endless, unshakeable, an unquenchable thirst that only breeds desperation. The despair slides and slithers slowly over us as if being baptized in the shallowest of rivers and sweeps away all knowledge of self and truth. This is the light that transcends into the nothingness of loss and forfeit of ones self.


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