Mother bore me in the jungle wild and I am homeless, but oh my soul is at peace, tranquil as an angel's, entirely holy as the child, but I am poor, doomed and bereaved of light.
Mother taught me underneath a tree, sitting down before the heat of day, she took me on her lap and kissed me, pointed to the skies and said, seek ye on the rising sun the Almighty, we adore and worship. He gives his light, and gives his heat away equally, we are miserable, though flowers, trees, beasts and men receive his love equally, we starve and shower in tears. Mother said to me, yet look afar and believe no faith, for them that trade religion connive to ensure our emptiness.
Yet they say, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever. That mercy, but for all of us? every human being?
We are about on earth a little apart, that we may learn to bear the beams of love and our different looks, these sunburnt faces is but a cloud, in a shady grove. For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear, when the cloud vanishes, we'll be freed from your groove.
If I don't believe in myself, then who will believe in me? The next man's way of getting there might not necessarily work for me, so I have to create my own way of survival, that's what evolution taught me?
And thus I say to the pathetic rich and greedy, when I from poor dark spectrum and you from white clouds and free, yet we meant to be the children of God, like lambs we praise and rejoice to his rays. It's a promise, I'll shade you from the heat till you can bear the scorching routine I endure. Then you can lean in joy upon our Father's knee, if the future gone was reversible, if the future next is plausible. Why can't you realise the something out of nothing into nothing. Yes you, me and everything around us.
The battle that never ends is the battle of belief against unbelief. fate fatally forewarns faith.
Did you not say it aloud that my spirit is broken and my soul stolen, my labours down your drain? I dare not respond like I possess no brain? I might be susceptible to the pain you bring next to my gain. Yet my ego surpasses yours.
And then I'll stand and stroke your silver hair and tell you I'll never be like you, hence I was evolved to survive my space and pace, which you invaded and created, the creator character to distract me rebelling your oppressor character. I'll not challenge you but will not believe your holy tales, your kingdom in the skies are but fibs and just as I survived your rigs on my ribs, I'll always be me.
Any man worth his salt will stick up for what he believes right, but it takes a slightly better man to acknowledge instantly and without reservation that this world is an error.
No comments:
Post a Comment