In a word...
Yes.
When clouds grew tired
Of crowded scenes
And move aside for suns to shine
There comes a time
For a shiny mystic surprise to arise
Wrapped in condescension
For all to see
In elusive glitter of awe and mismatch
Within this picture of a thousand words
In fallacy
Draped across the sky
I saw an idea, waiting to hatch
Heaven's gates were rusted
With the disbelief of a million souls
And the questions of a million more
Heaven's gates were rusted
It's angels fallen and bruised
If not more
Wings tainted, they circle their own thoughts
Questioning existence that was once accepted
And loved and cherished
Like shadows asking for light
Knowing that it kills them
And asking anyway
Mortal and weak
They realize that they must move on
For the dust of real dreams
Surrounds them like the wind
Flowing gently, flowing free
Like liquid death
Engulfing, engaging, entangling
Disappearing in them
While they disappear in themselves
Or perhaps
It is all but a lie
A beautiful conundrum
A subterfuge of sorts
Pandora's box of troubles
In the hands of Mr. Fox
A dream of dreams
A bluepill if you will
But give me a choice
And I'll give you the kill
