By: Briana Wasil
In the world of light there is darkness
A cold and brewing storm
Of nothingness and matter
Where not everything is explored
Hidden by the anchors that are forced to lie down
Buried in the deep abyss lying through its form
A thousand names it's called by
Only one that’s been explored.
A shield of ice and steel surround
An everlasting door.
A turbulence of water, floating overhead,
As everything is lost to echos
Protected from the world again.
Scratches on its side a reminder of the past,
Not to be confused with all the beauty it still has