To Unite My Hand
This feather is made to unite my hand,
Yet to tickle others is a feat of bravery.
For the One Above on His throne is to reside
In this existence of the solutes and solvents.
This feather makes humour,
But humour is not within the realm.
Life is a loving affair of brilliance,
Humour is so unimportant compared to Him.
Life vanishes when He wishes,
Feathers of the birds cannot amount to
The same blessings bestowed.
For we are His creation,
Vanishing would mean sudden death,
And that would be relentless,
Like the objective of the hidden one,
Who whispers in the hearts of creatures
That solving the heavenly spheres
Subjects mothers and fathers and sons
To the depths of an abyss.
The hidden one speaks like a devilish object,
An idol to speak to and to pray to
With a seal of the human heart.
Reject this being from the inner desires,
So that devils betray themselves and
Peace returns once more,
So that the Throne Of The One Above
Happens to our faculties more so.
We must receive any blessing
That we deserve for we are
Ones not treacherous.
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