The End Is By Belief
Here lies the story,
The words of the said
Of written thought,
Alive and dead,
No avenues to pretend
No paths left unchecked,But scattered verses
From oceans
To morning hearses.Saddled upon disintegrating lips
Either prostrated to curses, or holy passages,
Convergences of messages
Intertwined by creation
And, damages.Images stored and voices explored,
Though it was said,
The syllabus
Find life, or write death.Walking eyes of red,
Tethered in replicas
Tricked by pages,
Framed with counterfeit,
Hidden, vicesTorment in rest,
Best take pencil
Pen, feather, ink,
Inscribe thought
Or whittle to splinter,
Owned flesh, or soul kept.Bitter strums unbridled,
Poignant buzz,
The trees asked for the ax,
Self demise, a figure of lies,
Minds travel by waves of lines,
Words of graceful chorus
Or stagnant altars,
The idol of arrogance,Learning stars, a nexus,
But ants see only their given impulses,
Man shredding of moral scriptures
In exchange for the ants voyages,
No galaxy, nor humility,Words are said,
In truth or lie,
Be by all,
What is written to praise,
Is what will rise in life,
Or collapse, of pillars of chest,Will the last breath, be given a chance.
Or is the choice, before the final ebb, of breast.
