“The Letters At Worlds End”

Lastly, I want organic conversations until the tongue forgets how to play its part

The radius of my indulgence, taken by the helm

Resistant to lie upon the heavy tribulations that are born within the stars

It’s the ideals and theories that ensure the possibilities

Kaleidoscope, the distance in between

Noble carriers of a warrior’s dream

I wonder when the universe falls, will the masters still be in their chairs

Settling down, having discussions on the inferior delights of profitable transgression, and what it really means

In the tiger’s eye, that fountain doesn’t waste away

The shoreline of fear, that dreads the peak of stability, more than I do

Showered by the parade that offers new guidance, bending headstrong, the lights that sanctify those very thoughts that we are afraid to say

In these words, my dear, the ink never runs dry

The end is near, and we both know why