I pass the outskirts
Weaved with the emerald stitch
The fireflies swarming as suns
The hum of a motorcycle
Fading as the whispers of souls
Confront me from the mist
The woman in white
Speaking my destiny
Before leaving me at the gate
To the last garden on earth
Dystopia over my head
And I stand before the domain of life
With the dead resting beneath my bones
And a few thousand foxes behind my uncharted path
Eager to hunt the artist of immortality
Who vandalized my forest
Jade flushed with garnet
preside,
reign.