it can hurt as none of known weapons

it blows within your true-self

it crashes the very borders of your keep 



Diagnostics failed-none cares

all acceptable ways dealt of no core

flexible hands of anxiety are moving now

the only prescription left is suicide 



Generations of your antestors

Shores of proto - seas and primal youth of the green glens by the blood are within your cells

and standing on the ashes

observing this formed world

gradually becoming aware

that the mind trap turns into soul plot 



granuled treasures of oblivion

renovated sharpness of thoughts

whole indulgence of the almighty

counting stages while the fall 



And even while on your knees

when the present strikes sharply through

The only things that stable the strength

Are those ancient memories of yours? 



So be thankful to the source

it was the Thing which delivered

you, doomed to existence

and finally forced for the purification of wisdom 





						     



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