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The fine line of soul time...

Sit down a minute listen up
As words are spilling from my cup
Stained carpet sacred desecrated
Red in color blood related
Imagine mass a soul of matter
High above the din of chatter

Or lost inside the mindless bind
That keeps emotions trapped and tied
Down to the dark where fears all lie
And tell us things we can’t deny
A past that’s clouded forecast shrouded
Futures fade from dreams you doubted

Time remains a fixture fixed
On the wall strapped to your wrist
The second hand a grain of sand
That passes through a mirrored land
Descends upon the ivory tower
Growing steady by the hour

An epic storm a sugar shower
A sweetened rose a thorny flower
That pricks you now and wakes you up
Soak up these drops and fill your cup
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