A tale of past, that tastes like future and resembles the present
I've been told,
Of a being that grew weary, but never too old.
Born from the stars, with only chaos in its mind,
Cursed with a mist, to forever be blind.
A powerful divine who instead of heart,
Had a star,
Lacking the power to understand
Just who we are?
Set on a path for the mind to be free,
It shattered its soul...
Pieces, gold and debris.
Ones meant to kill, and others to die
Some meant to paint and sing, others to cry.
From suffering to happinnes,
All has been sought from the first,
Hoping that in the end, it will satisfy the thirst
Each single piece meant to gather the eyes
And all put togheter to see through the lies.
The human has been confused
And set to understand himself.
Isn't this our greatest goal,
That we seek until we meet the grave?
YOU ARE READING
Through the veil ( Poetry )
PoetryA volume of poems under work, a story told chaotic and backwards about the birth, death, life and intrigues of "a" or "the" God, and one small mortal who takes the trip to discover all in-between them.
