Starting from the objects of the good,

Why disregard them as none should

Only to Grab at the veil before the chance,

Paused hotly in the glare of the glance

Barely am I in the world as it is,

Falling into a grandiose whisper 

Brought ever closer,

To the place under the souls 

Where the demons are my whole,

Even as I toil to remove their force

I know it is all a farce.