3

Born of magic impressions
In the one neophyte
Who cyphers the dual existence
Between real and unreal
When combined is the trinity
That dreams translate
In the womb of the matrix.
Weak spirit. Sleep leaves.
Kingdoms cannot be
Destroyed by anything less
Than eternity:
You all look the same to me:
Mortal. Immortal.
Riveted by the playgrounds
That reveal...!