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By The Depths Of Curiosity

A Door Is Opened Gallantly.

To A Peaceful Room Of Artistry,

This Door Of Words Led Me.

And Therein Hung A Tapersy

Of Mild-Mannered Artistry,

And From The Ceiling Peacefully

Gentle Whispers Grasping Me.

Within This Now Clostaphobic Gallery,

A Search For Technicality.

Through The Folds Of Harsh Reality

The Gentle Whispers Cascade.

And In This Search Relentless,

Curiosity Lost Within Every Blankness.

Smashed Against Harsh Relevance,

The Whisper Sway Subsides.

To The Silence There I'm Left,

The Tapersy Probing Every Breath.

And In The Search For Technicality,

A Loss Of Dire Necessity.