He dwells in the pits of everlasting much more than a reasonable existence.He reigns in a modified capacity where elevation lost its destination to reside.
He exists in a meaningful moment awaiting a tangible definition to surface;
He is present in a state that bears no known nomenclature.
A wind without a sky,
A breath without air;
Milestones without archives,
relentless without a dare.
Immediate submissiveness when light refuses to appear;
Desperation, a cry out of silence;
When compassion meets sincere.
Wings have been clipped, however, flight refuses to take place.
You see he realms in a place where the gut is the only mere existence of his beginning.
What happens when the beginning originates in the deep end of waters?
Where ripples are undefined, and waves never were.
The fear within him stays awake to witness the essence of a time;
A time with no fate, and fate with no description.
Shallow runs deep;
Pain seems commonplace.
What happens when he lets go of the suppressed...
The pen just had to testify...
