The silence of its cloak,
The sharpness of its aftermath,
Death a fatuous tale,
Misinterpreted by the mind's eye,
A revival of the spirit,
In the midst of all its foolery, I see it coming.
I am prepared.
Waking the dawn,
The soft iridescence bathing me,
Alive.
The pain not metioned, the pain not felt.
The flourish of the Lions Mane, the knowing of the Lions Roar,
Be fearful o' dear children, for this Lion, is [b]not[b] a tame Lion.
Swimming, Wondering, Thinking through empty spaces.
Fruitless efforts, feelings of remorse.
Actions unsincere, the results unclear. For I have been decieved.
A traitor, a deciever.
for I am of those things. Yet the harvest of his forgiveness has given me a new hope.
I know its not much but ill be posting some more real soon!

