Sited on the rock,at the alpine of the highest level of reason,
I contemplate at the azimuth of this economic season.
I stare at the ancestral sun's that fought for us,the stars.
I spot that deep-set brave scar.
I feel like Luther K,but mine is a vision,
Time flew the sun is at the horizon.
Fear creeps into the heart of the nation.
Suddenly no more vision 2030 notion.
The light is being overtaken by the shadow,
Its mixing the umbra and penumbra darkness blows.
Over the beautiful people.
Who revel in bribe sequels.
Listening to their agitated souls,
And how they cry foul...
Tears dampening papers of would be change.
Confusion in the Red and Orange.
The yellow lines transpire past the super roads,
Nearing the fading stage as they croak like expectant toads.
The cockerel of age awaits to crow at dawn,
For the dark days are here the children frown.
Arising i walk to edge of the mountain.
To plunge myself below into the red fountain.
I leap,shut my eyes all the hope is gone.
Before i splash in a savior is again born.
I pray from the spirit world that they remember the Son.
By M.O.O aka Light Clipse.
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