And cauldrons of stone
What beings do breed here?
Who calls this space home?
Life is all over, it spits from the soil
Its sweet blossoms buried, reclaimed through our toil.. its so strange, this secret expressed, all at once rising up from a belly suppressed.
The asphalt of karma, peels back once again
Greeting both fossils, and memiors of pen
Jeruselums Juries, Egyptian decor
The story that sits past an unopened door
Dare you explore?
Dare you explore?
Dare you explore?
Truth is a tone, a cool spacious wind, that picks from the temple a mortal that sins. Throws him along, like chaff in the wind. Yet smiles at the moment the distance is bridged.
The bridge bears atonement, and hazards, and hope. Faith and fatigue, consisting of both. Yet, with all the chances to skip steps and swerve, a most earnest student remains with it's words.
A voyage of worlds that spans over time, a glimpse from the office which gods are confined, we dream an illusion, and see it as good. We have found it fitting to be in this world. I too am familiar of many its pearls.
The journey will take confrontation with death, like a prisoner using his nails to erect, a handwritten word through prismatic stone. Perhaps, will succeed in returning home. A scripture is passed, through ears of two friends. The bottom is lifted and lowered again. The cycles and stories of good natured time, forever an hour in gods glowing mind.
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