Even as the fall lays out
Seeping its change into
Closing ground, I feel the
Roots spelunking south
Filtering hope through
Chambers devoid of sound

The quiet spark belayed
By a drought of heart
Nestles the jagged spines
Splintered from the source
To somehow stagger time

As I dip my hands
Into barren streams
Refreshing myself with
Empty promises and
Severed words
I find the oxygen
Deftly deposited amidst
Untempered corridors
Encircling my origin

The trees sing the song of the coming change
Enchanting the corridor of the space between
Where stagnant smoke fills empty frames
Archaic tableaus of exiled Queens and Kings

The metamorphosed mind 
Seeks the truth disguised
Whilst it wanders blind
With lidless eyes
Duty bound to time
Until the mistress
Of the night
Grants freedom
From this plight

Cruelly crafted by the witch of time
To despise the rich lifeline laid before,
Embracing the desiccated switch
Letting character confines bleed through
The borders hoisted as grim golems,
Marked warnings to those devout towards
Deviating away in abstract aversion,
Proclaiming that single path forward
Leads solely to death
When abiding to follow the fountain
Shines the light on the elusive lie;
Two roads did not diverge they coalesced
Out of distinct lives
But only one
Could survive