I hide myself away
deep in the forest of the dead,
where the tears had turned to stone
long ago.
Gargoyles of the secretive
watch my every move,
catalogue the emotions
I keep hidden away.
I sit beneath their leashes, 
the silent unnamed in the midst
of all their perfect knowledge, 
taking close their Omega,
philosophy of ordered chaos, 
and a flash of silent lightning
streaks the sky.
Their hard tears water
the saturated ground,
but it is already saturated
with the salty perspiration of my eyes.