From fore,
to now.
Heads and Tails.
And about grail and bread,
Yet the darkness remains a guide to nowhere.
Even when the light of new teachings arose.
Men hath done deeds.
Deeds be told by bedside,
Some flung about to sought fear,
and others to mend obedience.
With all good he's done,
But one evil that outweighs them all.
With such evil he fashioned himself a master.
Forged him unto his own liking,
But dipped him deep in rivers of fairy tales.
From night and day.
These self-proclaimed prophets pontificate,
Drunk deep their mouth about what they know not.
O' bless all faults of intelligence...
Bless more, faulty intelligence.
For now they rest upon their creation,
Like a slave nestled upon a barren floor...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well written insight. Fear of death and fear of one's own god (for some reason) haunt far to many