Layer upon layer of articulations
Positions confusion over the library of despair it seems

Humorous, as yesterdays gold is today's paper

Looking back over the hill
The message is not clear
Like a stranger speaking through pictures

He understands
But he dwells in the darkness

His world is turmoil
He speaks in riddles that he himself cannot solve

The pendulum still swings
From one side; the abyss of nemesis

To the other; the realm of silent content

From there
The metaphor becomes a barrier
To trap this silent stranger in his world of tempest.