Whisking me into insanity,

A silent verse goes by, entranced, you see.

Never has the scarlet domain,

Ever scarred my imperfect name.

It's all in how you play the game.

A quick disease, short and but not still,

A mindless element, pass lost, it never will.

The demon looks onward, finding its place,

Finally moving, near as wind, but not in a race.

It's all in how you read your name.

Variant displacement, a shadow from the light.

The light that once was a sun, but now not near as bright.

It passes continually, through this moment as last.

It moves on to the future, affecting another, while some are in the past.

It's all in how you make the rain.

And it'll all make sense again.

Someday.