The joy of the world is a new song
a piece of poetry
imbued with the flow of emotions
for repeating the same
is but a loss.
The Great Ones slowly wither away
and there's but a vacuum
of meaningless existence in
worship of by-gone glories,
Repeating the same history of
nobody cares, but I do -
The stories we write and tell eachother
are not fixed
like the stars of Ptholemus
they're rivers carving
a path through
the mountains and heavenly bodies
whom are like dragons
singing before the host of hosts,
lift thy spirit for the
Glory of (=-=) I AM.
|