Fear the Lord who created your spirit,
It produced the spirits of a thousand months,
Opening factors of health and worlds,
Words attached themselves to godly fear.
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A mad man is hurled into oblivion,
His entrails scatter like ash and soot;
My sanity appals the majority,
But inside the sane man wins.
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One realises the woods are graves of the dead,
Internally, he bleeds for the wounds inflicted
By wounds by wounds, from the hounds of life.
This reality beneath which resides the globe,
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The illustrator of modern times deposed his brother,
Those wasted few deceived one another to begin an era;
This year the worst year was erupting from the volcano,
So that beneath the ground was a giant of treasure.
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The two towers of fear are against the wall of fire,
The fire swells and roars like water of the waves,
And streams of binary input are conducted in concert,
Like open ways and closed factors that sting onwards.
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If love is in the heart for the Ultimate Being,
Then eternal happiness is found beyond the mountain,
Eluding the majesty of a king shall shine down,
Due to death in the whole life of surrendering.
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My swerving is my duty,
Duty forbade me, to turn,
To turn it persuades me.
For the dutiful ones apologise
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Heaven does stay forever in the place,
Opening doors to passageways of rightness,
Jaws can split, faces twist, and eyes crumble.
Heavenly splendours abide in this soiled realm,
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To wetness the day alights,
Towards the horizon of pain
Painting its face with grimace;
As the night outstrips the day
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Guards will reply to the storms of stringing happiness,
Often the days are nights, but the religion of hope has
Spoken faster and faster, the fasting is again the coping
Of a man in unison with a woman.
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