Ego and divinity

Upon a peaceful ocean ,
A thought did rise . 
That thought did move
Within the worlds , as a screw
Would into a wooden hollow . 

As judgements were passed , 
And prejudices concluded ,
To all but a few the truth
Eluded . Virtues and vices
Are relatives at war , 
Divided by a single wall . 
On either of that does lie
A way – somewhere , infinity
They do meet and there 
Contradictions nay exist . 
Yet till that point there does
Seem , a world at a brawl ,
Within itself always ready 
To start a fire at the scent of smoke .

Forces greater than the container
Are contained , by the sheer inept
Of those contained to recognize
A frail misnomer . The forces so contained
Do pray to the within to discover
A better lens to notice the
Venomous drops , the poison .

And once the mind does locate
Where it seems the simple twist
Of fate seems to be placed ,
It does try to frame a case
Of revolution , an air of arrogance ,
The charm of ego and deliberation.

The ego is a way to feel the abyss
And not that which we pit against those
As wise . The ego is a virtue to protect
And feel all those below earthly morality .
The ego is to break the walls of discrimination .
And that ego is a screen drawn  not to
Close love but to open the eyes of justice.

The only justice is poetic
And as each action churns a reaction ,
The world watches with concentration
And tries to balance with a fervor , a penchant
Soaked in a universal beauty ,
The song of which brings a deja vu
And belonging becomes de rigueur
For every creature .

At such a stark moment , the ego
Becomes a wall upon which you do
Stand and observe the obsessed world .
As a prophet to the mortal , the immortal
Sires the world and becomes the inner star ,
Set at a spot , showing direction ,
The venerated divine , the harbinger
To the future , the holder of the keys
To completion of an ultimatum .

With such a serene posture ,
The hand and the paper become
One . As one weaves through the other ,
That which is drawn breaks the beauty
Of stillness and the mesmerizing silence
Only to carve a beatitude beyond
The revealed rites of revered veneration –
The ode to world through perception.

And on such paper and as the hand
Becomes the mouth that disturbs the air ,
The thoughts on the ocean form
A known citation , seen within
And calm the diligent ego to mere strength .

As towers upon an unseen base ,
You do stand and watch the height
Of the sea , knowing that written
On the shore sand is temporary .
Yet that penned into memory ,
Is the message , to be visited
Again and again , in time’s rein ,
To establish the threads ,
To relight the blown fire
And rekindle the presence .

Everything is an illusion .
And so let the world be .
yet within each sketched ,
Does lie a world , the creativity
Of another illusion – reality
Mounted idealism , The final
curve to the straight column ,
The finesse of mind’s design .
And as the illusion’s illusion ,
Takes strength from its perceiver ,
The creator , it does add a tantamount
Code to the encore of the world .

Yet a while it does take
For another to conquer
The imagination and rise
The almost moribund ,
A final twitch before disappearance
And cause agitation in
The being’s bosom .

At such a moment ,
The negations seem to add up ,
All in whole and almost real
And thought aware ,
Such is the nature
That the being allows
Th virus to infect ,
If only not to let the world
Be poisoned.

And such and such is called divine
By plenty and worth a merry hail
But they do fail , they fail,
To see that it is not scarifies
And the ego’s penance ,
But that it is a discovery
To thrall the abyss by
The sheer resistance of life –
The strength of the wall
We do sit upon , the power
Of that which sits on the wall
And the stars whose lights do connect
The world by illuminating the world .

If not for anti , the ego has no existence .
If not for fear and guilt ,
The world would not be built
As it is but would have been formed
By the hands of creation –
The procreation of thoughts upon
Thoughts , the pro evolution
Of mud into bricks , of dusk
Into a dawn , memoir
Of man’s visage when he
Did see that he was free
To contemplate the way to the stars
And to carve a transient image on the shore
And letting the ocean the one to hide
That which is at the other side of sky’s brink .

The soul of life is divinity .
The beauty of movements ,
The culture of souls to choose ,
The ability to be alive .
Divinity is the way we feel ,
Divinity is the veracity .
And that truth which it represents ,
Is a means to an end .

At a solvent moment ,
The ego dissolves .
The viruses are none .
The illusions float below
And the world is a calm proposition.
Life seems to be drenched
In itself. The containers break ,
The Pandora box is overridden
As the world feels the hands’
Alacrity to be itself .

Life is life .
The world is alive .
Everything is an illusion
And we live in our perception .
Veracity and its integrity
Are the natural scales which we adhere
And as the notes of a song
Whatever pitch we breath
And ours heart’s beat
The love we feel
Will set us free .
For revolution is action
Where we reveal to ourselves
What we are , the action
Which frees us from the ordinary
And makes us to be the divinity .

Love is a essence ,
The flavour to let out the strings
And understand the world .
Love is the soul’s delight ,
For it is the fire of the fight .

As the world comes back alive
And the waves do eat the sketch
And reality is set alight ,
We do feel we belong ,
To this , that which is a metaphor
To our life , that which hides
From our sight , that we seek
For lending a meaning to life .

The joy of ego less superiority ,
The joy of divinity .
The God you are is what you will be ,
The God the world is ,
What you want it to be .
The God ultimately ,
Is the God that has to be .

Truth is not the end
But the means to an end.

 

The light shines the brightest

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Barriers and justice

Something stood still-
A barrier to his will ;
As if efforts are meant to be laughed at,
And the world lived far away from the facts.

A day would come , someday,
Where all that was not his would fall;
In a sudden breath of brilliance ,
Life would seem high away in the stars.

Until till , everyday and night ,
He dreamt and saw them high;
His morning star ,he waited for,
The time for the inner call.

Till then he lay , his dreams
never dormant , yet for a few moments,
His mind did torment and remind him
Of days , when love scant and fray.

The wall did stand still ,
But he did paint it –
till it does fall finally,
The paint was a coat of sanity.

And as he does see it as just another wall ,
For the world, he is just another brick in the wall*
But nothing else matters*,
Someday*, things will flipside*,

An overture will break it and give him life
And as the first allegro breaks from the largo,
Life then slowly does seem to raise to the Prestissimo ,
And to the ulterior he can move and grow.

What is within is forever,
The spirit, the will of one will never
Fade into the common commotion of noise
But will rather stand out-the voice of the insane poise.

What does matter does lay in wait,
Down the path ,through the fare way
Placed by our own actions and our plays
Which do make , a butterfly ,

The harbinger of the universe’s fate.
A picture is never complete,
For the world never accepts defeat,
For its desire is to seek,

The purpose and raise higher,
To where the rising sun is lower
And the plains and hills of Earth a blur,
Beyond the bright tempting azure.

But it was about him and not the world,
But it is about him and not the world,
But it will be about him and not the world,
A conceited almost nullity,

Yet if not for him , what could be?
And where will be the ability to see
And hear him and his temperament
His staunch vivacity?

The picture is complete,
For finally The artist does paint the eye,
And the work does come alive ,
And the protagonist does abide,

None. For he is born out of a will ,
And until it is fulfilled, he will walk
The land , how ever long it is spanned
And fulfil the thoughts plan.

Independence contingent upon man,
Destiny presupposed , yet a juxtapose
Did did I rise and it did choose,
And so it will never lose.

Man’s work is to break Inability,
To achieve it or not is destiny.
Mortality is lost ,
When sense of reality is found.

The only justice is poetic,
And it is set into a music,
The matrix when one does act,
The feeling we know it for a fact.

The light shines the brightest

*- Name of songs.

The essence

Sense,
Essence,
At a certain distance,
Connected through reverence or vengeance.
For a few a revelation,
Others a illegitimate menace.

Far away from the visceral planes,
Where one notorious thought reins,
In a dream of a certain refrain,
The colours of freedom seem strained.

Through the senses-scintillations,
Through the emotions-vibrations,
The balance of  past and future,
Deliberately hang on the vision,
Of a mortal and bound scion.

Words may pass wisdom,
Actions may give martyrdom,
But neither can provoke, freedom,
Unless within the creature arises
A stroke (almost a epiphany,
Yet one of time’s boundless nature)
On the verge of breaching space,
Yet binds the universe,
Into the cramped room of a head.
And there it fills the thoughts,
The emotions and something shines,
A rudimentary essence,
The grit of our race’s existence.
Origin unknown,
Yet never visceral,
It is the knowledge of many an incidental,
carved into the nerves -the child
Of verses of unknown depths
And the knows worlds’ heavens.

And as such a realization dawns upon,
In those glorious hours,which life is called upon,
Everything tries to belong and then in a strung call,
Falls upon and arranges as if bound by a song,
To show the exactitude-the answer to the puzzle
Of living. Yet by the time the strains resurface,
Negligence reverberates and confiscates,
The essence through illusions.

At that,petty decorations need harnessing-
Water needs colour,
For the solvent cannot solve,
The lack of opaque it possesses,
For it is deemed unclean without spillage
For a bearded man said that was its visage.

And while the forces seem violent-
The wind torrential in its wisdom
And the seas tumultuous in action,
Humans throng and try to belong through religion.
The docile are then fermented
With ideas that man is tormented
By the virtues used
To bind him and rule.

Albeit that does come purity,
But then named
Heretic ,by some capricious decree,
Only later , understood to be,
What is really seen;
But veracity needed fire
And so it was lit
With a match upon a soulless hay
With chants of hail for the gist of the display.
Such are binds which curtail the hands
Of values and refined sands.

They call him the devil,
And he does roam among humans.
he has no eight tails waging
Or thirteen a table set,
All he has is a gullible mind
And he does exploit with haste
And then spreads like a plague
From man to man,
Until everyone seems wan
And prone to the entourage
Of a abyss and its flaming reaches,
Illusions bent from the malleable,but
Mind,that oh! if used properly is divine!

Finally as all seem corrupt
And thought dead and shut up,
Struck a ray through the condescending grey,
Creation was set alive again,a rebirth ,
Now life doesn’t seem vain.
And that abrupt force was all hailed,
And his words proclaimed
As wisdom, his actions martyrdom,
But fail did everything to grasp its freedom.

Then the devil did descend in full,
Dressed in white,peace he would bring,
No one would sing,the mantras
Of old and sally no more would
The undercurrent wisdom
(Relight by nature with
A little bit of nurture)
As the mirror reflects
The myriad darkness
And in it man would see
Nothing , for an eye
Is as good as its lens,
Mind is as good as its exponent.

But the devil was faced,
He could not rebate
Nor could he reinstate
His hold. The keepers
Were three,wisdom was set free,
Though humans have a hand on
The devil’s vehemence,
Another does hold the benevolence,
Of the spirit of creation.

The sevens and nines
Will never die,
Unless new numbers are sworn by,
And so will never the life
Be left astray,
For there is a final way,
The path which all do face
And on a gloom filled morning comes
To the surface,there they do
See the light from the negation,
It is the mere lack of contradiction
Which sets the world into a revolution.

The light shines the brightest

A new silence

A new silence,
The gap before a new penchant.
In it,seems to lull,
A song once in which life was dwelt.
 
A memoir,
A remains,
Yet the strands of belonging curtail.
The inertia maybe strong,
But I will move, to where I belong,
Even if only in my dreams,
That Reality is far from perceived
By anyone but me.

Myself I will never give,
And whatever the world does ,
Never forgive.

For the shores can be further away,
But some how,some day,
I will reach it,for only to understand
The limitless ocean,
Free from words and relation,my penchant.

The gaps do sing,
But their meaning
I do know,
Let the hours go,
I dare to watch the flow,
Never mind what of mine
Is lost or hurt,
I will get a chance to flirt,
With the destiny I do wish
To reap, For my efforts,
Are not meant to be vain,
I will surely something,gain.

The light shines the brightest

The puddle and the sea

At a puddle they threw a stone,
And my bearings did spill over,
At my plight they did take pride;
The stones kept coming,
But so did the showers and my belief
In life; As time swam through its
Pristine verses,I did evolve,in spite
Of those stones and with a prayer to myself,
I did evoke a sense of belonging
And evolved into a ocean.
 
I crushed the stones into the sand-
On them they thread ,upon their
Very words,the hypocrites
Try to act dignified even as they
Gape with awe at my size and life.
Their stones,now are no means
to hurt,they are lost in my own gait
And if any were harsh I do return them,
At their feet and they do wonder
Why they sink in so right-
Ignorant,they fail to realize,
That in the mirror they do see
Themselves and not another,
They worship their gullible darkness,
But nor can that eat an infinite begin
For though I have shores,
I move upon a strong ground,
Intricate-we are one and the same,
The world is a passage and the sea,
Me, an observer,a prophet
I do try to warn,thee humans,
But you still are blind
And throw waste with tremendous haste,
And avoid my message with false chaste. 
 
While it does worry me,
And tears do fill me,
My God does allow me,
To watch the world and all the while love
Myself and the ulterior Goddess;
The stars do twinkle,
I know what they are,
They maybe far,
But within we do know,
That we are moving with a flow,
Ultimately we would meet,
If today at creativity’s peak,
Tomorrow at life’s peace.
Dare listen to us,
You might then seek life,
Otherwise oh! human,
You are no more seen.
Animals are born to survive
And man is born to live,
So seek the truth,
Truth is not an end
but a means to an end,
Listen oh! listen,
Or you will become 
Humanity’s stone,
Unknown and long forgone.
 
Listen oh! listen,
And think oh! think!
I am the sea,
Dare to see and hear me,
You will know you are free!
Once they did throw a stone,
I did crush it and now spread
It ashore see and learn,
Yearn and listen! 

The light shines the brightest!

The mirror shone…

And the mirror shone,with the image,
There stood the love,
There was the symbol within.
The sight was beyond might,
And the will of man,was his own.
He did belong to himself and Earth,
And those who see no face in the mirror,
Are the once who are in darkness.
Switch on the lights he did want to tell,
Yet how to address that which has no face?

That which rots will always rot,
That which grows shall always,
For you cannot be discriminated
Unless you your self choose so.
If the sky looks dull and glut,
Then the spirit shall be alight,
If it does choose to see the light within.
If the tools of men failed be perceived,
Then shall darkness have a victory,
Let the spark of solitude and the society’s
Misnomers do isolate ,in fear of itself.
That ,that curse is a gift,
That not  to belong leads to a search,
And the identity that which is googled,
Will be found,in love,in what we value.

To that we walk,we parade,
Those whose spirit is in integrity,
Who refuse to lie down
And to all that,bow,
For the sweetest rebellion
Is victorious when it seeks not to avenge
Itself in the name of revenge.
To rebel is to accept yourself
And that the face you do see,
Is not meant to be bound but free.
For in freedom alone dwells love,
For a bundle of life is in projection,
To seek the stars and greater levitation.
In dreams love does haunt
To seek the greatness so perceived,
Accidents lead to discoveries,
And so love to solution of mysteries.

Love to be alive,
And to abide to your light.
Humanity is at par with destruction when
In comparison of virtue-
Beyond that lie a very very few.
Sin is sinister and love is not a dagger,
Yet to preserve itself,shall it spill blood?
Is ale  spoiling the unspoiled to give
Negation a victory and to rejoice,
The death of our kind? Or is it the spirit
Of invention,to the man who drank it
As an unknown poison and found heaven?
Or neither but a state of natural invention,
Just so to place the mind a while away
And ultimately free from the bound day?
A metaphor to freedom?

Why is man bound?
And alone his love,with wings,
Always to be flown?
Why is it that we seek solace,
Even though we know out own face?
Now do we bind words into form
And say a noise is right,
The others utter and see your rite?
What sense of order do we see,
And beyond that what do we perceive?
Is disunity,A state of mere callous
Misinterpretation ,a stray mutation,
For us to marginalize our life?

But finally does come a day,
When we do breach innosence
And climb the ladder and pass the grey,
And into the clouds we do pass,
This a metaphoric heaven,
We seek not bliss,
But mere sense of equality-
Be valued as you are and not
What you are meant to be.
If earth was to be such,
Than a beggar will not be a king,
But to do so,must learn the arts
To raise and in character appraise,
The minds of those who fought past
The fiends,those many armed monsters,
The cruel nature of human disunity,
A stark stray-hail! OH! Hail,the society!
In spirit,realize the curiosity!

Love is such,turn on your light,
And in it you shall see the face of life,
Be bold and smile,for what you see
Is what you perceive,illusion or not,
It is a de reguier reality!
In the light of truth,
One will lead,not mere instict
But that which speaks logically,
A known or unknown tongue,
Hear it and learn to be,
Yourself and in that free!

Love yourself and forget disunity,
The world will be what it wants to be.
In scarifies and sacrilege and absurdity,
It sees joy; Then,love to be,
Be not tamed but be free to set free
the wisdom of freedom,
To the rocks,they might wake,
To restore the order of insanity.
Love is that we lend ourselves value,
And that is the end we seek,
Truth is not the end but means to an end.

The light shines the brightest

A 5 question interview

So Apar has given these questions to answer.This isn’t a proper tag,so the title isn’t “tagged”.So let me get the rules out of the way(they explain why this isn’t a proper tag 😛 {and I am not breaking the rules this time,at least not yet} [ :P] )

 

1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

 

 

Now the wonderful questions 😉 

 

1. What do you mean by your tag line “the light shines the brightest”?

So someone asks me at last! I will try to keep this simple…

Even when you are in absolute darkness,you can see..now that is becuase there is light and it “shines”. Anywhere and everywhere in the universe,there is light(ya well the black holes,too need light to prove their presence). The brightest light is what we will be able to see(of course the brightest will be relative). And also light is what we all derive our food from. And light is the true omnipresent in the world. In a more personal level,we all are guided by the inner voice or self or light. This is what prompts us to act and question and interpret the world.I can call this pure instinct but the reason why I call this the light is becuase for a lot of reasons..And also where there is light there is a source…What do think about it? I would need a “loooooong post” to write about this anyway what do think “the light shines the brightest” can mean?

 

2. What do your smileys mean in your comments?

It is as I have said depends on comment to comment/post to post. It might mean I sympathise/empathise/agree with you(in case of 🙂 ) In case it is a ( 😛 ) then in means I think that is got a touch of humor and I agree with you 🙂 And of course the 😀 . I like to use smileys becuase when you see it,at least within you start smiling 🙂 

3. What inspires you to write your long poems?

Everything and anything. It is what I see and what I feel that inspires me.That is what inspires to compose,write etc,my forte is poems.And also the Light shines the brightest 🙂

 

4. There are those who have called you crazy/weird. How do you handle this? 

I am used it 🙂 No actually I like to call myself crazy(and so my email Id would tell you). After all insanity is the heat of mankind.Almost everyone whom I meet tells me I am weird/crazy , a few understand what I really am,A few don’t.Being crazy doesn’t mean you have to be locked up,what it means is that you are capable of things which others aren’t.

                                                    (or) {she revised the question,but I am answering both 😉 }

4. You always seem to be online and manage to do one post a day. You also are involved in YU. How do you manage to study for your all important board exams?

I am always online because my comp is always on 😉 Ya well I started YU! 😛 And I prefer to study during the night.What I supposed to do,lock myself ? I am not that sort of a person,I cannot see life as something where we torture ourselves,I like to enjoy life,if i don’t enjoy something,I can’t do it….so I try to enjoy studies as well…

5. When do you intend to turn up for bloggers’ meets? Where would you like your first meet to be?

Once my boards are over 😉 Hmm..on Mt.Everest 😛 Seriously speaking no clue,I will turn up one day,just wait 🙂

So thats it folks,now who wants to be interviewed by me 😛 (someone please 😛 I like to ask questions 😀 😀 😀 ) Just leave a comment and I will send you your questions 😉 

IF my life was a song

Note:-thanks Indyeah for “IF my life was a song”

If my life was a song,
Then in the verses between
In a candour coveted hand,
I would breathe alive-
An expression set to the breeze
A serenade from the versatile winds
And forever free,in the wild laps
Of the one infinity.

If my life was a song,
Than in the notes high and low,
Connected above and below,
I shall ring the senses
Of mankind and be a passe
To the future-yet remembered
As the sound which propelled
The venerated verses of a magician-
Her wishes in me carried
And complete in wholesome alacrity.

If my life was a song,
I then long,
To be spread as unseen
lengths,in the several
Sounds of a violin;
the breath of a maiden
The etude of an epiphany-
Symphony,an encore to the passion,
The penchant of divine creativity.

If my life was a song,
Somewhere,somewhere,
From I rose,
And maybe it was a lover in remorse,
Or a conundrum engraved to a suppose-
To enchant the gullible and parade
The rhetoric manevolence of a ruler
Set to dispose,the knight right
Chivalry of a mixed man.

Or a dirge ,
A lament of someone young
And fine,In verses set to a graveyard rime.
If my life was a song,
Than maybe a war cry-the sound of melee
And bombs which rob the day and night
Of people with dreams and azure wild dreams,
So as to satisfy the whims of one obscene.

If my life was a song,
I would rather be the praises
Of an exactitude,proposals
Of multitude to some Unseen
And one which the pride of
Man and ignorance is obsessed
And binds and bonds those who will free.

Or if my life was a song,
I shall be the verses of the bard,
Sung aloud in a kinder park of
Beautiful flowers and vivacious
Hearts all running to the willies
Of unknown dangers aware
Which seeked by a few who dare
And than inspired ,fought to wear
And in their arsenal sound memory’s wear.

Or a rare sound from a exotic bird,
One rare,precious chirp.
Or the virtual wisdom of a poet
And in that the wisdom’s tune,
Alive and upright,
Command and comrade,
Never to fade,
Into the shallow depths of human memory.

Yet what ever I may be,
A whine or a rhapsody,
I shall be the one who travels
The beyonds of any verse,
The corners of the hidden universe.
I shall be in my company-
The one who sees life
And death as one to sung
And then the instrument hung,
But never shall I end before another
Has begun,as the world in a song,
Seeks solace and in that phase,
I shall be the winds of change.

Mutiny’s tenacity,
That which can never be disconnected,
The works of masters mortal yet immortal,
Beyond moral and miser and miserable medieval
Macabre,the memoir of the birth of the universe,
Unbound and skinless and soulful and sounded
Strings of severe success in killing the cull-able
And pushing the dare-able
To the path of infinite morality,
One where no virtue but that of great
And echoed sounds of the beaten
Shall be a light to those who seek life within.

And as a song,
All along,in march
and in may
on a winter or a sunny day,
The sounds keep the world alive,
Oh! you blind who fails to hear this
Forever shall be self-cursed of the divine bliss.
Come alive and listen,if not to the world ,within,
The notes of the world are never missing,
For a missing verse,is worse than a visceral curse!

And if my life was a song,
I would all this, sing along,
In your sleep,
In your awaken dreams,
I shall pass on the mystery
And guard you, I shall be the sentry.
And yet do not take me for a mystic,
Just listen to me,
I am a prophet,
One by nature born to be,
If you do not act,
But in ignorance relax,
Faith shall curdle
And earth perish,
Lend a voice sing aloud,
Shout as a scout,
Or a bout of feverish hail,
If my life was a song,
I am being sung!!

If my life was a song,
I am being sung!
If my life was a song,
I am being sung.
Life has just begun
And forever it shall run!

The light shines the brightest

Peace of sound

Peace of sound,
Sense of belonging,
A Romanticism within,
A prosperous zenith,
An excess of emotions,
A blur of vision,
Clarity in that disruption.

Animals are born to survive,
Man is born to live,
Earth is a place of haunt
And to create it and lend life,penchant
Of all things alive-
An euphoric sense of divine;
The magic brush which speaks-
Of fantasies and gross truth-
A parade,a tribute,
To the power,which dares not to be mute.

The war within,
The war in the world around,
Faceless and dangerous,
An adventurer within ,
A daredevil about,
The verses of an invention
Hoarse to a few,
Alive and divine to the rest.

In the virgin gaps between the sound,
A belonging-the world is alive,
More so in the silence,
Than the condescending virtue.
In thought there is a superiority,
In life there is an affinity,
A negation to the moment,
An anti to the passion,
A verve to the mundane,
A candour to the bane,
That which seeks home,
When insults are thrown.

The peace of sound,
Shakes and bares the ground.
Releasing those who are bound
Within the pride of human crowd,
They thrall the arbitrary
And lend form and break immunity.
Pecuniary of the universe,
The adage of the moral serf.

And yet they give life,
And beauty they abide,
Within they strike,
The chords and chime the life,
And make humans forget their blight;
And in love,move high,
Towards their aptitude and divinitude.

Peace of sound,
Sense of belonging,
A romanticism within,
A prosperous zenith,
An excess of emotions,
A blur of vision,
Clarity in that disruption.

The light shines the brightest

Revolution

A calm ,A quiet,
A horrenous riot.
An hour of sense,
An ounce of innocence,
A peferct balance;
The disturbance,
permutation for revolution-
Time to change and live innovation.

As the sun moves North,
And at six o clock strikes crimson,
And at such a vertex,
Earth seems a abode,
Of nature and nurture, propose.
Thoughts concave to the power
Within;Gesticulations cover
The paradigm and belonging
Gives rise to the mind and spirit
To work in collaboration,
To churn and grow the seeds of innovation.

Action and admiration,
Solace and Revival,
The knowledge that yonder
Sallies moves the hands
To move the bows ,
Spark the verses felt within
And arise the sense to a new-
To hilt the epiphany
And turn the arbitrary
Into a modus operandi
Of reason and purpose-
Actions and reactions
Of thoughts and conclusions.

And at such magnanimity
The force against is a hurt
To remind,a scar borne
To inspire and become livelier.
In the strength never shall wilt
And now in force there be no guilt.
An excess maybe split,
But creation and mutation
Are there to push-a shove
To the reaches and a drag
To the limits,an urge to think
Better and discover,
An urge to see beyond the seen
And to life,the secrets redeem.

Revolution,
Revolution,
Revolution,
The world in change is constant.
And at such gullible penchant,
Remains a reverberation,
The need to know,
The need to throw
Light on the ability to fight
With tools ,to sound the wind
With words of wisdom
And of conclusive thought-might;
So that the err of the weak
Shall be an onus for them to bear
And face their own needy glare.

Never shall a sown thought die,
Nor shall the greatness of knowledge go by
Without a struggle and in surrender to the darkness,
Of those who are afraid
Of their very shadow,
As they destine themselves to a dark morrow.

The light shines the brightest