Poetic Prose : Roman Empire (II)

“I who has cherished words and thought them to be the power of all mankind, was told that by definition, things become limited. I did not truly realise the limitation until today.” Roman Empire (I)

I was asleep at night, but the angels neither woke me nor stirred me. Neither did they breathe over me, nor look at me. They do not know my face. If they protect me, they must have their backs turned to me. Godlessness – we all suffer, because we cannot see all, hear all or know all. So as the enemy attacks me, the angels fight, eyes diverted from me. Unknowing that I am already dying, fighting myself. Devouring my very own light; so that it may be digested and egested and leave me lifeless, breathless, Godless. So when I open the window to let in the light, I urge myself to jump out of it.

Imperfection, diseased, unusual. Stand out from the crowd, with great sense of extraterrestrial essences. LOOK AT YOU, you ball of shit. Shit from all areas of the world, every corner not left untouched. You are filth and always will be filth. Little light, does not and cannot shine. Vibrations felt beneath your feet, yet the ground cannot even swallow up the amount of rubbish that you represent.

The immensity of sorrow is like a burden that the world has. You see the burden the World carries is Gravity. Holding it in its place, bringing everything spiralling down, held firmly to the ground. You see, dreams, wishes, prayers,words,feeling, emotions, hopes, desires and passions are all held to the ground by Gravity. And I do envy the space men who never carry the burden upon themselves. Though they are mere messengers dressed in white. They reach the heavens and reach the earth and defy all burdens. Do they sleep or eat, awake or drink, or dream or hope, laugh and play? What does it matter – for no burdens they carry , but a single message already passed on and no longer passing. Their time has already come, but yet we are devastated. Picking up gravity burdened cement, dreaming that we can build again. Forgetting our places as those creatures that need to suffer. For without suffering, what can one possibly know of Freedom?

Timelessness is Godlessness. How dare we hope for time to seize . When our whole world that is God created, is bounded by time. We are sewn in unto the tapestry by time. And we dare to hope to escape it. God help us all and our Godless ways. Trying to escape our fate. Trying to escape the rubble. Trying to build a Roman Empire.

© Ciinders TheSoulsWord ™


~ by Ciinders on July 11, 2011.

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