The arrival of the enigma,

Bestowed my contemplations,

Through the neat,

And the knot,

Do you feel the numbers now ?

The numbers we once didn’t know of?

I ask not ,

I state not,

I feel not,

I am no empath.

 

Avert Not Thine Eyes,

Find the golden civilization,

For its myths shall be your light,

The process of the light gets blown,

For thy hasn’t yet fully succumbed,

So thy shall use the remaining of your last will.

 

You ask me what’s aesthetic,

My answer doesn’t suit your tree of knowledge,

Shed thy leaves,

Grow anew,

The doves will come and go,

So will the flying horses,

For that,

You shall cover all the revelations,

But don’t forget whose tree it is you bear.