Poetry

                As we enter in to the Valley, we begin to isolate
  ourselves, confining the thought of, that no matter what is
             to come it is inevitable; Death, the ending of the
         constructed physicical form is no longer able to continuously
       remain physically, however, living is determined by the
                 soul of existance, how? In a parallel that we can
    no longer see, hidden by the shadow of ignorance to keep
   the blind, blind, with the instict of inevitable feelings to come
                       to an end and let fear become an omniscent predecessor,
                         by residing over and ruling thought, of both the
mental and physical outlooks, believing that the imposible is
                      truly what it is, but in turn the truth is that
 we are given satisfaction by justification through our own
      judgement to determine that of what is, and is not 
                eliminating out pre-determined desity.
                                                 Fate.