Heart racing, pacing heard from across the world
a chance to accept truth from eternity was hurled.
No longer a crutch, but a living leg to stand upon;
yet rejecting it, casting a desperate soul withdrawn.
The gray clock is vanishing, for time, it withers.
Dark shadows creep forth as a serpent slithers.
The sands of the hour are slowly devoured,
relationships formed soon quickly deflowered.
A specter of things to pass now awaits
hunting for all that temptation creates.
Sweat forms within the asthmatic rush
waiting for weaklings to crush, a brush
sweeps across the sky, glittering gold
relinquishing death’s dread hold, behold.
The victory comes to the ones overcoming
the Body preserved, the roaring sound of drumming.