Inearthed Glint
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The soul is shackled,
a prisoner, down in the ancestor’s native land.
The spirit is enwreathed with maggots,
dying rotten mind caged sucked deep into the earth,
over the deathbed of nation’s limbo.
Some one, some more,
the keeper never be the ally,
guardian become the traitor who betray one forgiveness,
aside as a self-proud knight,
a blind deft alien.
Buried, alive and awake
A blurry eye strive to capture any trace of light,
of the sun, of the moon, of the star,
paint all faded memories of tomorrow,
rebuild the towers of another day,
break the hours of nothingness.