- - Relief - -

- Relief - Life hast become a weary bed, Full of thorn with no petal left, All the songs beautiful and inspiring to elude the dirty dream silenced, The cloudhast overshadowed the burning ball and rolling blast of solid rain pierced the soil. The light that once glowed the way now is Slacken. The darkness deep becoming deep with the mind falling asleep, The joy of living and hope without hope to essay the pace of life stopped. The foggy night of forgetfulness on the mind espouses the inward exodus toward the great naught. The muse of wordless glory doth surface the pain that engraves thy name with tacit incantation. The sound of one hand clapping on the breast of misty night unfolds the path with pathless stature. The unlit sway of the temple of eternity fulfils the movement with eternal song of absolute nothingness. The drooping pain of mundane dream chronicles the most copulative relief on thy careful embrace.