Imagination, the light of origination.
The scepter\'d principal: divinity.
Locked the ways to time all but gone,
Set free the shackles of tranquility.
Till light doth thou march,
And till death doth ye descend.
Until night arrives.
Warping matter surrounding it,
Breathing dust trapped in the space.
To shrivel, to wither:
For all concerns disintegrate.
Cradling both sides, evil and the good,
Deemed long ago that nothing ever should.
Halted no man, ceased no expulsion,
Weighed by scale the value of their devotion.
Fate\'s red string connects believers,
In the same sense that a rag affixes moisture.
To be used by those found \"Worthy\",
Given a ticket, and number, to sit idly in the foyer.
Evaluate and quantify, paradise shall seek no king.
Give your heart to nature\'s riches,
And see what merit your faith brings.