Where the chambers cannot speak of love.

Maybe it was a fable or a tale that I've been told, that never should a child be leaving before they're grey and old,
Whatever made this womb a tomb where the chambers cannot speak of love, had divided nothing but the forces from the Landscape up above, I'd gladly cut the cords disgresion to rejuvenate the light,  but sometimes we can't valuate or know if it is right,  be it that the greater leasure lays within his hands, I'd statue all that he has promised upon this unknown land, be careful what is is you wish for, a million stars within its trail,  and such a Greif or indecision may see that tomb then fail, oh the ways the Lord does work, a miracle come by chance,  but never had I truly stood before the pledge of happenstance,  and only in my deep repression felt as if to throw a stone, because the very tomb you seek, is delighted as my own,  but never really would I leave you within a state of lone discord,  and so I say there is a way that only faithful can applaude,  where the darkness seeks what's only a tiny spark I'll meet it there, with silver teeth and sharpened wreaths for no man or beast could tell, that water has it's decent depths no fitepits forsaken dwell but in the light the sun might fight to capture what is known of thee,  but neither one could call on death, and make that trip eternity,  for the Lord may lead the willing soul and forfit what that darkness aims, for I have had enough of them and therfore will such peaceful aims, the game of life is not to live, but not to die where love is strong,  and so I say to tomb or hell, it's more than heaven where you belong.