As an infant sticks out his hand from the mother’s bowels,
Till he breathes the whiff of Mother Earth, clad in his bloody towels,
As the cornered fowl cries out for aid,
Till she spreads her pennons and flies,
Finding the horizon and beyond to fade.

As the void filled with blinding, silent blackness,
Till the ray of light shoots right across.
Flooding the void with garish, blatant brightness.
So my soul longs for a sudden awakening,
From this dismal trench of ignorance and vagueness,
Waiting for the cognizance it brings.

So often man latches his emotions to his laden heart.
I call out to thee oh tourist of the realms!
To catapult the fear and angst like a shooting dart.
For all these troubles are sure to die out.
Make way for the pleasant purgation,
And depurate thee from all blemishes and doubts.

The stark reality of life will remain hidden,
Till you have this sudden absolution.
And search for these cryptic certainities,
In places dark and forbidden.
‘Cause one day the tomb will call out to us,
And man shall return with humble nothingness.
Oh how my banal heart pines for this long awaited catharsis,
To lift me from this flagrant abyss.


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