Greenish sky reflected in the eye Sight turning to yellow's red's and gold These color fall so new life can be born Sum of hope Loss of fear Turn the tide But rust the gears The fire started so long ago Seeing history for the rest To what is repeated over again Possessing the ability to create Possessing the ability to destroy dichotomies grows Games abound None left to be found Drowned it own ignorance That truth is to be told Cold as the transfer of heat A force against it's own weight Forces of opposite do bound Lazy in it's own conservation Greedy in it's own consumption As soft as sandpaper The voice is heard Burnt from the sun As true as these words. - Gregory David Allen (AKA: The Flamesofphx)