The waves crash heavily here
against the setting sun, crimson promises
were made at some point; you couldn't utter the
words but still you spoke somehow
There is no end to us and
no beginning
This house has many doors yet no windows
through which anyone will ever see
our warm flesh folding in
the corridors, tremors below
As I walk the obsidian sands remember
how true the heart can be
What gives a thousand
years - the question of eternity
is nothing but semantics