like the crimson west
and the evening shadows,
which flout all imagination
and perceptions and logic;
like the humble bees,who's
devout service justifies a
flower and their noble queen;
like the high waves,who
sway to the whims of far
away heavens;like the sun
who keeps all the dials at
the set hour;like the wind
which never ceases to the
blood of the living;like the
clouds which cling to the blue
sky;like the labourous ants,
who save for a better future;
like the street stray,who
fuels life in optimism;like the
far of stars that flicker to
the distant eye;like a fire,
who burns unbiased to all;
like the earth on which we
stand -on it, that gives its gift
to us the noble race.Like all
in a moment ,the product of
evolution which stokes all the
worlds-the media of the divine
spirit,which abodes in all that
breaths and moves is all the
matter in the vast sphere,on
the ground which is flatter
to the ghosts of time and
tide,on which where rules lay
the concrete jungles.For
virtue can never so define life,
and thus it does destroy life,
on which we sit the nobler
humans.So hard is the metal,
so warm is the air that the
suffocation was long past
defined in the ancient books
so known yet unreached in life.
What future holds is not a
mere vision,its course is unmoved
by good or bad,or any such barrier
draw between by the vitrued man.
To hit hard,to stir the blood is
the magic,to reach peace is
what is to reach heaven for both
like the distant star only are seen
in imagination.the seer of life,
so moves us thus,in its own
conceit need it wriggles and
turns in the torture houses.
Scrupulous moves are self
defined,and thus are the worlds'
action.never is there a heaven
which rejects avarice for if
not it will be poorer than
the burning abyss ,in which
all the thoughts are shunned.
In the sojourn too,called life,
never is a good without power,
who's need is to suck to inoculate
them against the rest.If pardon
weren't a tool then the hellish
glow on man kind would be thus
that the proclaimed god would too
jump in as there would be no world
to rule and no angle to entertain.
For a god damn culture which is
as stubborn as a rock,who finally
gets beaten out,the faith lies in
the fanatics who fail to see reason
but rather live in the stupidity.
For the culture which is as pure as
the rain drop,the power lies in its
heart,the power of love.For never
is a God more than love,the heart
of everything.For the rich life to
survive in the earth who's cobwebs
and dust are painted over by mankind
there needs to be a messiah,who less
proclaims the right but merely tames
the snakes to a new song.Like the
red blood which flows and is the cause
of life,should be the spirit,and thus
to manage the vagabonds we need
a solution,and thus to save
the crimson sky from the concrete
and metal,we need to do no more
than think.For all cannot be a leader,
so cannot all be a subject.For all
the waters that flowed under the bridge
there was a single spirit,who took
it as its right to thread the unchallenged
minds.What lays ahead is what lays,
to be prudent is to be wise,for our
vise shall blow a inferno- one self
destructive blow,that rids of all
the filth.And thus to be hygienic,
and a true creature let us join to
stitch the worn blanket called a
oneness-the oneness of all the
creatures together,for they to
shall rule.we are the master
spirits of the age alone,none but
the present.what is hit young
shall grow with it,and thus shall
the thoughts,what we feed is what we
feel,let the star shines bright,let us be
humans,fear is not a vise and for
man and all, it is that which creates
and moves and kills, for if not a
mixture is seen,then they shall
haunt like a distant memory
on the ultimate floor,called dream.
stitch in time saves nine.
