Though it was laid out before him,
He was preoccupied, lost
Within the eddies and currents,
A swimmer who, caught
Within the rhythm of the strokes,
Ventures far from the shore
Unable to return,
And though I warned him of
His innumerable transgressions, his
Relentless pursuit of mysteries, denied
For his own sanity and protection, still
Men do what men do and grow wise
In the underworld, where
Shadows commune, speaking
Of their exploits, what they've done
And what they've seen, eyes
That were better off closed
Open now, seeing, perpetually
Understanding the intricate patterns that lie
Within the narrow path of damnation.
Pentheus
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- constantine
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