Life's waters cascade upon grains of sand,
Just as Time accosts the Creations of Man,
’Til there’s no indication of any hand.
Stone statues wither to their natural state,
Paintings fade until there’s nothing left to see,
While the music ceases; such is our work’s fate.
Beneath it all, there’s a world that doesn’t change,
A world that is veiled by desire's arrogance,
A world whose beauty, to us, would seem quite strange.
There, we walk with the forgotten and the dead;
We see the phantasms of our lonely hearts;
And, we're able to empathize with our heads.
This world lies beneath all our misconceptions,
It bubbles beneath our imagination,
And so many only see its reflections.
We’re always brought back to it through our mistakes,
But it only bites us if we’re not honest;
For in our loss and our pain it can relate.
Then, we awake to see what we could not:
A world that is rife with self-made confusion,
Blinded by its hunger and what it concocts.
Alone and in silence, we hear its heartbeat;
In Darkness, we’re able to witness its light,
To grasp that the Beauty of Truth is its treat.
Now, waves crash upon us, but we stay unchanged,
For the World’s illusion has become defanged.