The fire is gone, whether forever or for awhile I do not know, My experiments prove the point, that my vision for the world, should not grow, That even though I tried to create happiness without sadness, The harder I pushed, the more I knew, that what I was doing was madness. I thought I could do while thinking, ponder the mysteries of the world without blinking, But I was a fool to think I could break the circle, For this I shall remain as nothing, so dull, For neither singing or poetry from me flows as it once did, Even now, this is much more difficult to write, But there is a way to translate everything to poetry and so for others I bid, That they know not of how I thought, for then they might shriek to see me afflicted by this blight. The world has sunk to a materialism so deep, I cannot wake them from this endless restless sleep, Ideas, and thoughts so powerful now easily overlooked, This realization came and my whole world it shook, I must do, that is no longer the question, But I am now hollow, no longer less than. The symbol was to keep me happy while doing, Try to maintain part of this sanity that I was losing, Seeing now that when I try to create happiness that I only create more pain, Silence my tongue I will try, and not try again, To change a world that cannot be altered, So I will change my self to survive and not be faltered. I don't know why I hear people scream, Or see the ghastly figure that I had never seen before, I thought it was a challenge to make them stop, and make the world a better place so they would scream no more, But now I realize it was a sign for me to just stop trying, They tried to warn me that if I dug deeper, I would wish I would be dying, But too late was there message, for now I have seen too much, Images of horrible things I've never seen before, at my mind, they clutch. So now I resolve myself to think no more and continue on without the flame, To become a hollow nothing, less than even lame, To be nominal, alive in only name, Because happiness brings lethargy to what was once my heart, And if I keep thinking I will no longer see each human as a work of art, In order to make them seem more important, My own worth must be put lower than the lowest, So old I feel that to continue this struggle I can't, The weight of the world cannot crush me, if I am less than my flesh, And all that I've blessed, and all that I've cursed, Will mean nothing more, from now until the hearse.