Living In The Valley Of The Shadow Of Death

Grasping in the dark cold hands
The voiceless phantom mythed in torn pages of a decomposing tome
The pages wither like burned flowers in a summer drought
They fall into dust.

While questions arise in perpetual wanderlust...
Of unanswered questions and empty gestures
Mandrake saviors and eyes sewn shut
This living in fear.

Fear of freedom
Fear of letting go... of things
The novice angel's somber strings...
Golden gates and choirs of angels sing praises to a heavenly host who's overlooked in arrogance the true majesty of the world.

There is no God in buildings
This divisive, cunning method of control
Ignorance. Oblivion. Ungratefulness and greed
Forever wanting more when the table buckles from building plates so over filled with the beauty of this world.

Death is my final gift
The leaves that fall nourish the soil with their decomposition and the oak will feed from itself again
And the world thrives
Relish the wilderness.

There are no forests in your Heaven
There are no forests in your Heaven
There are no forests in your Heaven
There are no forests in your Heaven
Because Heaven is within.