prayers tied to string
the string demands a payment
do you pay for it?

If Glory is Yours?
What to Want to Possess it?
Thank you of your Gift

a challenge towards
and do you even duel?
I split into one

when the Black is black
and the Red is like Hellfire
ye are Purified

Zen is not a sound
But you hear and yet sense it.
Self contract outward...

no hope and no loss
full, but incomplete with
I have everything

silence stir echo
I do not hear anything
yet I sense something

Grapes fall from the vines
Fermentation does pigment
A let of blood, red...

Mind splits twig Fire
Wrist collapses to ward off
Absorb, and take in...

I am Death Garden
and shake of Moss, ash, and stone...
I am Done, to Loss.