How do I seek answers, If I don’t know the Questions? “Thou shalt not feel guilt” Yet I seek Redemption “Righteous, Kind, and Virtuous” Full of self-conviction “Pure as the running water” Drowning in my illusory perfection While deep beneath the darkness Sprouts my rotten Dereliction Say: “Shall we tell you of those who lose most in respect of their deeds? Those whose efforts have been wasted in this life, while they thought that they were acquiring good by their works?
Silence away my cry Or gaze ahead and pry To fight my fate and rectify The ailments and my weary sigh Or spawn me a fly Grant me what I can’t buy With man’s wealth or gold’s dye— Eternity and I shan’t die Dare The Lord eye to eye Scheme and plot on the sly You lost your way and passed by The only passage—a needle’s eye ”To those who reject Our signs and treat them with arrogance, no opening will there be of the gates of heaven, nor will they enter the garden, until the camel can pass through the eye of the needle: Such is Our reward for those in sin.
On roads of dirt and slime we walked Of hopes and dreams we wished and talked “If given the choice, what would you take for a cloak? Immortal, Powerful, Wealthy or High afloat? Or Ruling, or cruising the seas is what you sought?” Asked the friend, on his limp, as we talked Why have one, if I want all? Why do I choose, if I can call And point to make what’s broken whole
The mighty rock was afloat; a mountain, a pillar of earth was swung above its vast shadows. The crushing cloud was dropped. And every thing beneath was no more. From ashes, the remains were brought. And the lifeless corpse was rendered before. What an unearthly show! Indeed trickery is what we saw. “Lord, halt thy sun!” A prayer in battle. “Split the moon!” A challenge from the unworthy. Show me a sign!
Pride and arrogance are my traits Lies and misdeeds shadow my face Lost yet confident in my pace, I slip into my tiny grave Pride and arrogance form my shell Within I hide what’s foul and ill I cry “I’m doing well!” And bless my self for the massive bill I cry “Am I doing well?” And bless my self for my mere will Pride and arrogance mask my sorrow Left to the pill of joy I swallow Till it fades away again in the morrow And the hollow is reclaimed by my wailing marrow
Your idol, your mentor. A role model, a professor. Most knowledgeable, one to die for. Most righteous, above all soared. A human, yet he is more. Possesses all control, to cast you away, or lore you before. He keeps the gates of Heavens, and to Hell he leaves the door. A human, yet you make him more. He lies, he robs. Mountains of sins he holds—a secret to behold. He ravishes, he kills.
Sad world. We ought not to change that. It was never our fight. So why are we armed to the teeth, hiding in pits behind the barricades anticipating a tragic victory? Dying world. There’s no stopping that. And we’re to follow. So why are we breaking bones only to cling to the falling crag? Unhappy folk. Accumulated worth. And unhappy still we are. One scout. No sign of Man. No sight of prey.
We fear the dark. We fear loneliness. We can’t hear our own thoughts over the coiling noise surrounding our every stay. There’s not much change to expect when all we do is running aimlessly, blindfolded without aid–We will fade. Our thoughts are no longer rooted to us. Our beliefs come from a collective pool of shared, familiar ideas that did not originate from a thought process, but rather from a distributed knowledge base that is no longer up for amendment or doubt.
Sought is individuality, charm, and wit. A praise is worth more than gold. Acknowledgement is a grant for correctness and likeability. It’s the company of others that provokes the need for conformity, when uncontrolled or unnoticed, it becomes an unwanted fellowship of convention, a wobbled pacing of thoughts and beliefs. Directed by the lunar tides of society. Some retreat to solitude to see through the gray. Some accept the gray as the only true color for their lives.
Where there are so many, all speech becomes a debate without end. But two together may perhaps find wisdom. — J.R.R. Tolkien. What would life be without our words? Why is it that we always talk too much for too long? What is it that we always waste our time talking about? And why do we never watch out for the paramount power our words hold? A word can take a life.
I see an immortal tree. Breathing throughout the ages. Not counting days. Observing changes. Recording phrases of peoples’ brief phases. In different times and places. I see mankind, divided and shrinking by the minute, and many minutes have passed. Where people would kill each other in the name of what’s most absurd. But I must eat! I see men, drawing lines to claim a piece of land, much like child play.
Whatever the pressure However your pleasure holds you Captive to the treasure – Marko Saaresto Most of us are actually starving, seeking nothing but a warm meal every day. And this is quite the dream! Also, quite a lot can afford more than they themselves can comprehend. Yet it’s often the case that no one would even consider balancing this scale. Giving more than just a very little margin of what we own is considered almost heroic.
The value of one is often defined by what they do. The output of one’s work is not necessarily what makes it worthy. It is -like many other things- relative; some people consider a certain act heroic, while another group of people would deem it brute and evil. Who has the final word? In the ever-miserable pursuit of illusory perpetual happiness, people can so easily adapt to committing certain actions they’d never do -willingly- if given the chance—just for all types of outcomes.