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However Golden, it's Dead
I'm standing on a hill
in a field of grass and what
looks to be a forest
in the distance,
my finger glowing
in a pulse of black
strikes me as odd,
I lift it high into the air
and when I draw the ink from
it seems to levitate,
Im in awe,
I proceed to write into
the thin air above
where the hill goes
down into the forest,
I write the words,
"Dead Scenery"
Dont ask me why,
I don't know why,
but the ink hanging there
starts to drip and run,
it changes color into a
metallic purple as it's morphing
through all letters of the alphabet,
The word "Scenery" completely
splashes on the ground
and still the word "Dead"
is morphing until
the ink turns golden,
and hardens there
in a shimmering display
of gold adorned glory,
the word is no longer "Dead"
its "Deeds"
blasting me with its
unexplained light
