Nothing to gain and nothing to lose; dull as an ancient axe, and bland as an unseasoned meal; there's nothing there not even a chill.
Like wax that needs to be lit, there’s a heaviness that can be strict. Consuming all pollution and particles of darkness there stands a cloud of fogginess.
Breathing in dimness, and drowning out the truth; there’s so many rays, but none to hold on to. Swinging from glare to glare; it’s empty, no it’s bare.
Solid but hollow, whole but half; complete but not done yet. Alive and dead, shiny and without a glow, a spiritless person has no hope.
Rays beam from the son, capturing the essence of a chosen one. Sparkling and bright, the light is blinding and a delight.
As the mind, eyes, chest and womb were opened; it was found there was no substance. Now infused with the rays of this one person, is a beloved who has spirit because of the son.