The Dark Orifice

He is of the cosmic bowl,

We are floating the dark orifice

They have yet to notice our toil

And discover our mortal distress

They have not lost themselves, like we have

He is of the light, that land with dreams in hand

Where makers are created, and their fires fanned

And in the insipid arena, where with space we sweep in hand

We are too far gone, it is too empty,

It is too dark to create our dreamland

And somewhere in the hearts passage

Is a tempered evil

At all things of fortunate passage

In all that is so peaceful

We are too tempestuous, we seek things sought

We seek things as they seem

We seek things, from the blackness

That are not easily seen

He is from a land below

Yet hell is above , and cold as snow

And our punishment is not seen

As we are blindfolded, so as not to know