Overture For The Divided

The turn of the century, the lunar fall

The eyes in the heavens, the end of all

The death of perfection, the Considerate, moved, searches his conscience,

I've found a way to save this, the Architect is blameless,

My oils have found a purpose, I'll paint the new with the old, and save his soul.

So, from naivety is born division

Onto the canvas must be drawn every soul

To cover tracks he must do so with swiftness,

And in this act deny one the right to be whole

Onto the canvas must be drawn every soul, every deviation

To satisfy, and so too undermine a game of Gods and dice

A traveller walks across these lifeless lands,

Gathering pieces strewn across timeless sands.

Cloaked, emerging from the desert,

Waiting for this world's end to seize its treasure

But what of he that is not one,

He is the one forgotten,

And how he longs to gather his pieces,

How he longs for oneness

Onto the canvas must be drawn every soul, every deviation

To satisfy aesthetic intention divine.

But what if the plot should twist?

Emerges the ever-silent, the ever-watching

Climb the last step just to find another stairway