winds of love blow beneath a mountain of dirt.
here lies an abyss of lost emotion,
never found in the first notion
to create a place, a place so grand
where sorrow crumbles to sand.
felt beneath the skin, the truth hereby lies
that such a place ceases to exist.
grandness is only apparent in the goodbyes-
the finale of finales, the chance to resist
for whatever fate is, fear it I do not
a blast of reason is more likely
to solve all the troubles I sought
passing on to me an image however so more sightly
than blank stares into the heavens and a quest for
the senses of man found above the clouds
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