Premonitions surfing through abysmal confinement
Thoughts unable to scale the walls so high,
Tempestuous growling cannot shun the reverie
Ears have gone bitter from its harrowing cry
Accumulated between the sterile cracks of wisdom
Only found upon the soil's subtle quiver,
Beneath them all lies a mystery
Which upon inspection displays a fading vigor.
Though embedded deep, this mystery remains at stake
With the bleak foundation threatening to subside,
But this baleful risk its forever prepared to take,
For until Israfil blows his trumpet, these secrets will eternally hide.