What are we,
that tread the earth with our hopeful tribulations,
our need to be in control
and a greater need to be controlled.
Who are we to claim the truth?
Can we even comprehend that word alone?
Understanding - will we ever begin?
Vision; we see much and believe a little less
We hear only the mundane whispers of survival.
We smell nothing but the pungent sent of death,
We touch only the fabricated.
Our thoughts deceiving our perception.
Dancing within a shadow box whos candle is the sun.
Living in the spaces between
Our paths forever broken.
All the while remains
the Prophecy unspoken.