Testo Metaphobia

A disposition to turn blind eyes to atrocity
Juxtaposition of dissonance and apathy
Aging
Old ways are set aflame
Racing
Into a shallow grave

Placed in position to veer away from reality Dismal, abyssal, and empty is this destiny
Deepening sleep that dreams for fear of waking into hell
And reaping seeds that never bloom in dry, compacted soil

The channels open wherein fleets speed into newer worlds
To lay out fresh foundations of ideas to grow and build upon
Thought channels open, mastering emotion and control
Of impulse, seeking wisdom cultivates the means to open

The door that closes on fingers too weak to push and hold it
Ajar is the same that stands and separates the past from the future to come

No use of wits, but pounding fists to render bloody, rotten pulp
Out of the hands that once commanded great respect from the folk
Who shape the lore, the stories dying to be told of people greater Than the cowards of times that went before

The door stays closed

The channels open wherein fleets speed into newer worlds
To lay out fresh foundations of ideas to grow and build upon
Thought channels open, mastering emotion and control
Of impulse, seeking wisdom cultivates the means
To open the door