Rhythms to the Land of Revelation

The very bad thing

Easily catches the mind

Making a full public appearance

It grabs the throat

Impedes the soul

Deafens the ears

Stamps the heart

Hoping to shower the eyes with glittery things

For a time, the world is stunned

Basking in this new found power

Only for some to open mouth and shout

Liar, for hope does not come to accuse


Dying spring of the savannah

Heal my bruised heels

Rest my tired mind

Trouble me out of sleep

So I may live through my words

Raise me through the veils of basic death

These times of revelations

Holds back the skin from shedding

But I digress not further

Instead the truth I stress

Is to press onto the blade of the truth

And taint no more

Living fore-more into one’s self

Digging deeper into the ditch of life


The tongue that never changed

Neither did the thread of soul

Only the rise for the hunger of our needs

So again must I digress further not?

Maybe until another night of Lucien

For under these starry stars the air blows hot

And the fan tries hard to best the fight

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