Wondering Thought

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What defines humanity ?

the lust of creation,

the question of damnation,

or the curiosity of the seeking mind?

What aches Humanity ?

the desecration of ideals,

the moral compass of illumination,

or the helpless wonders of the lonely kind ?

Our innocence is merely tremor-ed,

defiled by the numbness of the aching mind.

The curiosity destroyed

in the eyes of the sulking child.

Moral ideals shattered,

only to find forgiveness

through non-existent divine.

What destroyed humanity?

The barren walls of the dying mind.

Our Desire

Our Desire

The untested testament

speaks not of holy beings,

there are only virtues of your favor

and perils of your demise.

The tyranny of this scripture

is its own true wording

the soaked up darkness in our hearts

can not comprehend.

For the truth only lies

in the pathway to the kingdom

while sower in the fields

shrouded with lies and hunger.

So beseech me

with this cowering desire

and let free the ancient feelings of your heart

There are no holy beings in our sire

only you who transcend

above this world’s desire

Image Credits: Aiki-ame

What Would It Be Like

I wrote this poem about a week ago while stargazing on my rooftop. I believe this poem is about the curiosity that dwells in each of our minds. Everybody wants to play God but how many of us want to stop and enjoy the view ?

What Would It Be Like

What would it be like

to see the world from a window.

A spectacle of hope, love and sorrow.

 

What would in be like,

to observe from a far

as these beings of sand live in hopes of  ‘morrow.

To see the tyrants shatter and fall

and countries rise to bestow all.

to see how two hearts melt

and materialize as one again.

 

The grace.

The beauty.

to witness such a sight

What would it be like

to see the world through His eye?

Legacy

Well i had to give my yearly examinations two times this year. For a second during all the stress and studying i actually stopped to think how through all the stress and pain, we can build a true legacy.

featured image credits: http://archann.deviantart.com/

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Life is not a blissful melody,

of specialty for your design.

The words you write,

are written once,

but repeated in legacy

for all of time.

Lies are deceptions

of the unholy mind,

where the priestess of sin,

savors the emotion,

of those who dry.

Moist is not blood

for the saliva in your lie.

Deceit not the One

for you will also die.

End in what words,

you began this unholy life.

Youth of the young,

used for glory and demise.

For what its worth,

love is derile.

For all of agony,

stress is sterile.

For none of you believe,

in the heavens of the skies.

Bow down to your Lord,

the savior of your cries.

To those who do not cry,

only hell shall suffice.

You are no less a mortal,

with a tear in your eye.

The call is heard,

only when a heart beats Nye.

When cliches are done,

your story will be born of dye.

the colour of words

of the illustrations you deny,

shall burn in your veins,

till the ashes of your rye.

So live your life

and let none die.

what you wrote

is written, why ?

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