Written by: Mario Vitale

A scrape then what will appear through its gate?

An impulse through the primal fabrication enough of fate,
In temporal dwellings a pull away from what is ordinary
Then vanquished amidst the pride on its temptress
A tug at the heart will light an inner spark to what it was

Shelter lies dormant amidst its beckoning call asunder


To allude its prefix amidst the target
You have all turned your backs on truth
Instead in its place you have fully erected idols to honor your dead

In days of lament an impulse caressed its timeless vent

You are a carrier of heartache amidst its spoil
In carnal days of false promises