in an ocean of contemplation something dimly lights the shore an image of rock and wave not enough to show the way and still the final decision is made as if from heaven it was born and brought down by a seraphim moving deftly through the maelstrom its six wings beating against the storm but that's no angel riding torment to help a weary traveler who has no obvious options to explore no heavenly message delivered that's a demon in a saintly form the charade however clever doesn't change the will of soaked and tired bones that will soon be crashing against worn and beaten stones and there shall be no reminder for they will be swallowed by the foam and Neptune he is smiling it's a d**h that he adores