1A never-ending hall,
And as you stare all down the bare
And never-ending wall,
You come to realize that the hall
Is empty as can be.
It holds no sound, it bears no bound,
And all the floor's a sea.
The quiet dark is ecstacy,
And you cannot deny
The urge to shout, to scream, to pout,
Or to disrupt the sky.
For now it falls as order flies,
And chaos governs calm.
You never knew that thing which slew
The harmonious psalm.
That thing is peace, the world becalmed,
For when the darkness falls
And all the world is folded, curled,
And peace should govern halls,
The restless hearts of men will fall.
Frenzy takes the reigns,
And all the Hells of all Earth's dells
Can offer no refrains
To match the empty, bitter strains
Of that infinity.
That empty hall, that bitter wall,
And all the floor, the sea,
Are mocking you in ecstacy.
It spikes mentality,
And so you shout, you scream, you pout,
But echoes three by three
Fall dead among the midnight sea
With darkness as their grave.
And there you stand upon the sand,
Corroded by the wave
That washes all the endless graves
From twilight down to dusk.
You turn around and leave the sound,
The empty, tasteless musk,
That is that endless, empty husk,
But still you are not free.
You've seen its walls, you've heard its calls,
You've seen infinity,
And now the peace that would to be
The very essence of
Is forging swords of blistered words
Among the wings of doves.