I gain an aspect of humanity and drop it into the ocean. Once the seas are formed, then the land will appear. Once the land appears, so shall the truth begin. Whence known it shall find its place in the heart of history; who knew that breath that once took pace. At last they walk and then knew not their fate. At once they fought and breathed not good faith. I shall crush them in the tears of mine disgraced that conjure wild and storm them through. My word as good as fauna; my hand little but soft too gained. For’t were banished souls and cry the signs of light deepen the songs of woe – a distant cry heard in the softest blue as marble shine, this merry dark, this rock of beast in the widest black.

And the hours dined, this simple fool; though little, as I am simply obeying fate but no word of mine heeded and so rain shall pour and I am the honest fool to howl in guilt and suffer though silent in deepest woe. Could not but simply choose, though not is simply done. Hence I am the one neither from east nor west; nor from south and north combined. When I am lost, I am found again. When I am found, ere the seas are parted there am I to be seen again.

Though simple thought and complex words, could not better be seen and his hatred thwart, is but little perfect and so big a burden, nor satiated by love of creed, can never be chosen as follower of green. Though indeed, I am sacked by angels to distant heart, and the gates in whom my key is trusted though of mine am locked away until the destined people in whom I create, shall sing again and walk to better prospect as high as they. But long am I much to learn, is too hard but frail to earn, can give a light, but never the night. But I command thy freedom, as much as I give none myself for exile ere imposed is but sworn for repentance yet disposed.

Having sent them unto ye, but to not result little from me, giv’n thee heaven and hell in test of what shall be, had seen the way you ought be free. In millenia, though changed in looks and beliefs, our instincts remain so base As all the same is all the lame, one simply ought not to fear as no weapons here can give better myself to seek. I am here not to judge but to look; and when I look it is not at the epicenter of thy existence, but the ripples that shake the smallest fragment beneath the molten core, above the coldest sky.

Is but not forgiveness, but from us you shall seek; though little we know, though more we say, can never make difference if not for thee. In them, I give reprieve; in them they call my name and ask my aid, but in all honesty it was only freedom I laid. Though freedom, but where is gold? And so fickle are the ways of life, what more knowledge taught is but sustenance got; for a day you can find an answer, another two; and another century the more. It has worked so far, so shall it work for ye.

Then meet, again? Never again. For I am not the simplest that ought to be listened. Not I, but see yourself again and counts the years as you do the hours; that counts the breaths as you do your words.

%d bloggers like this: