One momentary, instant flash
and that's how long it takes to fall in love.
You may fight it all you wish,but the cold fact is that nothing is sacred.
Nothing is pure.
Nothing is as we want.
Logic runs its course
and we laugh
and we cry.
Yet our smiles unfelt,
Our eyes, strangely dry.
The eyes close,
waiting for the beautiful trance
that comes with sleep.
And the children.
Full of life.
Full of curiosity.
Full of wonder and amazement.
fall to the floor,
suckle their thumbs.
And the room.
Full of the sound of millions
of tiny breaths
falls silently into the night.
Silence.
We are the Children.
Armed with nothing
but our curiostiy
and morbid fascination of the dark.
We leave our homes.
We roam the uncharted
for we can afford the luxury.
The painted mantle pieces,
Far too elaborate to burn,
We break.
And run.
Run my children.
Because in the end,
Nothing may catch you
but time itself.
the, the elaborate webs
that have been woven for us
Become our security nets.
Catching us as we fall into the Real.
The Real is only as we make it,
but far to dark to be forsaken.
We are the Children.
