Parables
There are limitations
Around the pride walking down
On the infinite vacuum paths
Yours and ours
In the ruins and skeletons, we
Were raised
On deception and
Death, Too morbid
Too casual, yet the horrid
Faces
Live under our skins
And we thought
Only earth is failing us
We hear just
The parables and symbols
Qualms and chords,
In inner and outer
Ailments and desires.
We will
Hang ourselves
Infinite times
In the visions of time
Our hands, its slaves
Our senses, its adventure.
How can we end
What has never been started
In the armour of blasphemy.
Time shall continue
Towards the cave
Parts of us somehow made at
The big bang
Whose vacuums are no longer stable,
Apparently
They are scared by our thoughts
Time rise and fall
In the oceans and clocks,
We believe We
Build and rule its trajectories and hands.
We proudly fill its voids with
Voices
Faces
Perfumes
Pleasures
Tastes.
Yet, it sits quietly
At our fireside
To stay warm and live
A long life
In our thoughts
We are running away
But from whom
The one in whose eyes
We see the mirror?
Well it is biased,
As much as
Our interpretation of what
We see.
The answers lie
Not in long days
And even longer nights. But
In the evenings, vulnerable
Which must loose either light or dark
The dualities in which we spend
Our time…
There are limitations
Around the pride walking down
On the infinite vacuum paths
Yours and ours
In the ruins and skeletons, we
Were raised
On deception and
Death, Too morbid
Too casual, yet the horrid
Faces
Live under our skins
And we thought
Only earth is failing us
We hear just
The parables and symbols
Qualms and chords,
In inner and outer
Ailments and desires.
We will
Hang ourselves
Infinite times
In the visions of time
Our hands, its slaves
Our senses, its adventure.
How can we end
What has never been started
In the armour of blasphemy.
Time shall continue
Towards the cave
Parts of us somehow made at
The big bang
Whose vacuums are no longer stable,
Apparently
They are scared by our thoughts
Time rise and fall
In the oceans and clocks,
We believe We
Build and rule its trajectories and hands.
We proudly fill its voids with
Voices
Faces
Perfumes
Pleasures
Tastes.
Yet, it sits quietly
At our fireside
To stay warm and live
A long life
In our thoughts
We are running away
But from whom
The one in whose eyes
We see the mirror?
Well it is biased,
As much as
Our interpretation of what
We see.
The answers lie
Not in long days
And even longer nights. But
In the evenings, vulnerable
Which must loose either light or dark
The dualities in which we spend
Our time…
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