The erythemic stance of the blood,
the vibrant speculation of the eye,
the hold of a sensation through the skin,
the essence of expression from a lie,
entangling the vision of light and darkness,
through the greatest valleys of our thoughts,
here we are, wandering in the canopies of our ethos,
the believe is fading, enabling the scripts to be lost.
Human, the discerned existence of the universe,
are lost with the calibre to create,
unknown to the fundamental element of this curiosity,
and far away from the mystical existence of the clay,
the material was everywhere, abandoning the glare,
provoking the ethos to enable its birth,
and the creation to witness their fall from the grave.
The serpent drew its poison to the light,
and we were left with the fruit, well-defined,
the fruit was the emblem to learn and seek,
but where we breath, does not justify the need,
follow to seek, and provoke the totem out of reach,
find the lost mystique , be guided to the real colour of the sea.