The dark of night embraces the silence of those cradling sleepers dreaming their dreams of sin, call one to the Piper shall all follow, and silence shall be their screams. No sign posts to Heaven, no elevators to Hell, all want for my touch both knowing and un. Race for the finish as fast as you can go, but don’t touch the clenching of those whose life’s full of woes, lest they become entrenched with your own, for the gods of the dead, weight with feather, for transgresses young and old.
They take my hand and are pleased to do so and stories of trophies from this world to the next are false to the ears not hearing, deafened to truth and its whey, as each one who lies to the innocent skies will stay in torment, and remain. A shattered mirage gleans the night sky where I see them in sleep as they lie on their beds of deceit and mire. Fear not, for I’ll come unto you and cleanse your filth from your mind, your flesh and set your spirit free.
