Pure

Something so pure...

one man all alone in the void making something finding it a kind of creation all new

and walking in the desert apart from all the world bleeding inside searching for some kind of hopelessness something to make it die...

crawled all over the steps of the untouchables his imperfections make discomforts out of pleasures his misery is unrecognizable

This is something new and the people so perfect recognize it too. "This pain you've created. Where did it come from? What makes you so special to feel something so pure?" No answer from the man, their envy drawing near. Just kept digging for something real and true.

The perfections all gathering round to see the artwork unfold before their eyes. His Joan of Arc, Christ Crucifixion in the form of free will.

"I WILL FIND THE ANSWER!!!" he yelled to the wide eyed and stupid. I will dig where no man has gone before. And burying himself among the masses. The void filled with light and the ANSWER could be heard.

"You are to be recognized in your pain. Something truly better than perfection. And i am justice in you. The world you sleep in is nothing more than dreams making nightmares out of the pure."

"These fires before your heart will only extinguish the fear, To pull open the doors one must accept the fact that he is never to return." "And dissipate into space, you are bound to everything.

and i cried... I can no longer wish to be whole. I am never complete. Tear off as much as you please. And I will regrow in the emptiness. I am never to return...