ivory agate
That run on the downtrodden path,
will make feelings tingle,
that never ceased to exist,
made to question you,
but never meant to surface, never meant to mingle.
With the void that surrounds,
no hope for us is meant to be seen.
All that shall be seemingly left,
will be us, our fear, and the wrathful unrest of the unbounds,
full of numb cryings,
in this deep dark ravine.
All that remains is the conquest of fear itself,
with all the doubts as silent foes.
But how can you kill it,
when dwells in you,
pretending to never even be alive or exist.
For so love is special,
the only human emotion,
to transcend all sublime dimensions,
just to merrily intertwine and tingle,
the feelings that were meant to mingle.
