Mar 11, 2021, 7:38 AM

Beatific Resurgence 

  Poetry » Phylosophy, Other
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I use myself and others in moralistic ways,

for all my sisters and brothers live their better days,

finding out what they are truly meant to be,

insatiable to the point of insanity.

 

Missing out on the seemingly insignificant,

we all become creatures so damn magnificent.

Creating ourselves anew from ash and thought,

we become the wanton chaos we have wrought.

 

Seldom we look at the past, shameful and insecure,

wandering if we would ever find a lasting cure

to the malaise of a truly questionable mind,

leaving itself on purpose so far and far behind.

 

We live to breathe and be what we have chosen,

separate from our deigned fates in time frozen,

passing by the gates of patterns and matter,

we wish our unwanted thought to wildly scatter.

 

What has been before is true no more,

a mere relic of debauchery galore.

A new world will inevitable come to be

with artists rising proud for all to see.

 

A reckoning will come for all without morals,

a dreadfully large number of all us mortals.

We shall come face to face with infinity

and shudder in the face of true divinity.

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