Chrome Tectonic
Creeping under the unknown breath of winter
Over its white blanket and under its silver sky.
Life of what’s known years ago.
Now lost, gone, and can’t tell why.
This is a story,
Of what’s seen.
Untold fierceness and beauty.
Defined through eyes of no form.
Yet damned.
Truly,
Not all white are heaven.
Not all white are pure.
Not all white are good.
For some,
They are just as hostile as claws.
Vicious and cold like blade.
Empty,
That’s all what it is.
No soul, no space, no name.
Not even the millions stars,
Blink in its existence.
Or it did even exist?
Night is black.
Hair is black.
Coal is black.
Are they what we feared?
Over the snow,
White reflects the beauty.
Yet behind the innocence,
The danger of anonymity refined.
Under the night sky,
Souls dream and desires fulfilled.
Like the thousand mysteries.
Deep.
Frozen.
Waiting.
In His Thoughts 