I hear the echo of my echoes
In the words you speak
We are alike perhaps not
In deed, but simply in thought,
Or is it our society, a higher
Remembrances of a purer fire,
Breeding these sacred emotions,
Attempting rise with chivalric potions
Putting the seed to grow in notion,
Becoming thought and deed,
Or is it in this quickening we need
To see ourselves as more than just
A simple people bred by lust,
And reach for something grand
Be it in the mind or in the hand
Before we revert back to the dirt
Back to the sand,
We quest the why, we
Seek the answer,
We ponder
the happily
everafter,
but what is good, what
is true, what fact is not
man-made,
and as such inherently a lie,
what are we to do,
we seek and seek
quest and question
we battle with the soulless
insurrection,
we see we bleed
we cut we see
and yet we hurt
each other wilfully
it truly often frightens me,
what will we be…
or have we been
and finished now,
finished without way to begin
and so we cannot
never ever will we win.

Silverdragon (still here lurking in the woodwork.
No, not talking to the trees with Lerk, just lurking....
although I could probably learn something from the trees...
and Lerk too I suppose.)