The fathoms of truth are where darkness is deep
And triumphant over ideal and intellect
Mesmerizing, paralyzing spirals of fear
They become relief, spirit, and belief
Skulls ascend high heaven's eye
Death will receive, drowning pride in grief,
Birth will come and tears will dry
Rather hear the ones carrying hearts of no light
For but insects feed on stigmata
They did fall in reverse
And speak their truth in secrecy, with whispered voices, thousandfold
As willfully blindfolded eyes might give weight to the paradox
Some would do well contemplating
The faceless and shapeless state of equilibrium
Learn, while skin dissolves,
To deliberate upon the thrice-lettered word
For that which shelters, adulterates, revolves in
Circles like moths to the flame
To perpetuate the waters transpicuous and shallow
So no one and nothing could ever drown in such constrictive seas
Insignificance becomes breathable
Even when perceived as an ocean,
For unconscious focus persists
Until the I becomes a sunken city,
Ruins hidden in the cold vast dark
It is through the gaze of the eye,
That a face loses substance,
Becomes stripped of all expression
Until there is nothing left to hold
On to, maintaining but bones and spirit,
Thus essence is cleared of all false constructs,
And towers of radiant unidentity emerge
From underneath the cloudy surface to unfold in splendour
And on top there is a crown enthroned,
Made out of the remains of one million destroyed personas
Forming omega