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Page two: a steadier hand, a firmer grasp. Black ink against a stark white page.

Dark, dark shadows.
Stalk them while you can;
Life's dull emptiness they hide,
And touch the perfect world.
Pure, pure, black.

Dark, dark shadows.
Barrier 'gainst light and life,
Keeping you from hurt and strife,
Giving you the chance to strike.
Pure, pure, black.

Dark, dark, shadows.
Light is banished; sound rules here:
Melody, strong and clear,
Music of the soul.
Pure, pure, black.

From The Collected Writings of Izrick.