Infinite craving of the destitute,
Hard to define the gravity of his attitude,
For the pride and glory he reek of,
Forever be not his the side kick in his honor,
Defended alleys with the grain in the bags brought from the home,
Soft parchments inside the silos lead to the opening of the dome,
Precedes within the sunlight transcending from the heaven,
Filtering the souls that strike the light in its way,
Far side, the heavy sight, so full with the enigma,
The staircase that he saw, all and forever magnified his charisma,
Upon the gift he possessed, and what he had to offer,
More or less no short of that was so pure and divine,
In the room, house, to the room, the mirror on the wall,
Peeked deep inside out and rushed like the smooth waterfall,
Heavy notes, the rock solid hit the bottom of the dive he plunged,
Many cracked versions, no short of the greatest story ever made and challenged,
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