Patchwork

When will nature be healing?
Feel only descent toward grieving.
Separation of a new mind.
Trapped in this spinning cage.
No longer is there a chance to save…
Empires fall into the sea.
Divination will never be.

How are we all still standing?
It was such a hard landing.
Terror grips and stings.
Clipping of fresh wings.
Saving has been aborted freely.
Errors have become a norm.
Deicide is reborn.

Patchwork of rifts that could have been.
No one stands under this ring.
As it looms overhead.
Soon all will be…

Shed of their skin.
Cast from the heart.
Shattered by delusion.
No option to impart…
Knowledge unto this group.
Forever we are stuck as brutes.
Malicious in our ways.
Grasping for outdated plays.

When will nature be healing?
Feel only descent and some thieving.
Separation won’t save this line.
Trapped by our own crime.
No longer is there a chance to see…
Empires are long lost in the sea.
Divination did not return to be.