A series of poems conjured from the minds of J. Evan Rogers + Bailey Gaus

The Burmese Tease hides beneath
swollen shadows of featherweights,
hymns turn to Him to relinquish
what is left of their unbound souls.

Wind sits still, laden with mercurial secrets
long since foretold and forgotten,
relearned once more, entrapped in fleeting moments
where the horror of the Minotaur
steps forth in pitch black, unmasked.

Silence is not quite as quiet as it seems—
it echoes on in endlessness, etched in the ancient
onyx walls of a mirrored, cyclical Elysium.

Sinister whispers purr in the Garden of Amnesia
where Salvation is dancing unseen
on the outer edge of the palisade,
stuck in the esoteric recesses
a mere apple’s toss away.

The only way out, is to go further in:
this is always how it begins.

(Forth to Pt II.)