It is the black
when my instincts grip and my senses crawl
around, inside, and outside
claws grip onto the air
my eyes look to pierce the burning snow
meditating on the sound of the wind
the breeze brings in the songs of fortune
the black
burning fire of no light
reeking of pain charred into ash
from the grains of charcoal dew
arise the beast of no earth, no few
no face
no eyes
no sense
reaches out from the heart of steel
the black
David Esotica 
Exquisite.