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What if darkness was a fraction of the mind
And hope resides and conquers what we know as light
would that suggest that believing is seeing
-the uncertainties of time?
Crime was committed to the yellow poppy seed,
deemed to grow into the rose it will never be
as another epic became unfold
and heroes lost their grace as voice became old.

If and then it was all true
that night fell with disgrace from afar,
then stars would be its resilient hope
that shines to be our admires
to captivate our hearts.
For when all is done and all is told
to the bruised child that stands to hold
his innocence burned with brutality from his father,
that catches his eyes and embellishes his soul
does deceit and hate and bias grow.

And the broken saint without fears had faltered to redeem
his people, Lost and forgotten in the rings-
then it is done that no one shall ever see
corrupt in its lovely sheen
worn as beauty as it pleases.
It's another chapter ripped from its pages
and lost forever in forgotten places.