And so he muttered, between a prolonged sigh and a swift smirk,
"the heroes we once knew, now ramble in extinction."
The guiding line, so gray and distant, is nimble in defeat,
poor in verve and large in comfort; yonder it remains, away from guilt.
Therefore, after such prevailing kiss, I find myself disarmed;
no symbol was ever so full and unsure, and blessed in fury.
It is the faith of the universe, full of consequence and reaction,
mirroring its antithesis, whispering the truth.
I find you ubiquitous but intermittent,
like the sun when it parades off the sky,
away from the shores of the night, but for the night,
like Pythias, when he left only to come back.
Therefore, after your pondering gesture, I find myself lost;
the trees are now green and infallible; vibrant in ostentation.
The crowd is the jungle, but that jungle is not my land,
I'll wait for your words, I know they will arrive in time.
Our past belongs to the labyrinths of the night,
our truce was written in silence and without our hands,
thus it is our lips that plow through the tides,
into the unfathomed waters and across the prairies covering the land.
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