Prototype
Born in ruin, simply to be discarded,
Oh what a beautiful sight.
Ubiquitous eyes regarded,
In hell do thine eye trust.
A single stroke on a canvas, is hardly recognized,
Oh, a portrait of an era’s recorded beauty in thy sight.
Man's might slay lions, release thieves.
Carried around in rhythmic sounds.
The prototype, is resigned, to night, as
Light regards the eyes to the ways of Light.
There is only night and might.
Yet still prototype, regard thy eyes to the light,
Son of the night.