Razors
What lies ahead will be scribbled in red So please tread lightly on which words are soon to be said As the bed-ridden scribe -- Well hidden from prying eyes -- Scrawled it all into a riddle with a brittle quill And until the wax seal breaks; Until the inkwell runs too dry for mistakes; Until the blistering, solar winds of empty time and space -- reveals the jarring jots that transcended from the grips of reality's embrace
The written note, now floating light-years away Setting sail on an aimless calling through the Milky Way Glowing brighter than every ray, every quasar Trying to disclose our moments that cut as deep as Occam's razor -- Yet shrouded in the blinding blaze of Newton's flaming laser sword But one day, the guiding beam will find its way through the nebulae storms And a distant star will listen for the beacon of everything your aching heart had poured
