This entry was posted in Joseph, poem, poetry and tagged acceptance, archaic, brainwash, consciousness, Death, dimension, dreams, escape, existence, flaw, games, harmony, hatred, hostage, humanity, journey, liberation, light, nightmare, origin, perfection, puzzle, realms, seeds, souls, thoughts, wandering, Wings.
Waking up from a nightmare
Our lives are being played on the violin of acceptance.
The bow of creation cannot exist without the strings of harmony.
The point of origin is not questioned with its perplexing riddles with all accepting without a
blink of an eye.
All the while the apple does not fall far from the tree and its seeds are carried to the essence of
Where hatred spreads within its perimeters of archaic language and hatred burns and
consumes all those of promised wings, falling with no safety and death becomes your only
And a round world is created for perfection with square consciousness – a flaw in this design.
A mundane journey they walk through their own fire.
A mundane existence they live clone like in repetitive motion
A wandering in their own unattended submissive journey,
And a chagrin borne upon humankind delivered with shackles…
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