Within all aspects of life, there is one certain, that is death.
Within all aspects of day, there is one certain, that is night.

There is something I hear, not playing.
There is something I hear, as people walk by.
I hear it, I feel it, I hold it dear.

As though the World has passed me a puzzle to solve.
I solve it, but the room clears.
It's true nature scatters, like flies on shit.

There is one keeper of truth,
There are two people,  who watch as the many fall.

As we try to create, we fail so violently.
Not because we are without  imagination.
We are simply silenced by our own ambiguity.