Does a dead man breath ?
Does not so ,I suppose.
But the dead man breaths .
Haunted by his past ,
Haunted by his future,
The dead man breaths.

Does a dead man breath?
Does not so, I suppose.
But the dead man breaths.
By not his actions ,
By actions of his sons.
By not his oaths ,
By oaths of his sons.

Does a dead man breath?
Does not so ,I suppose.
But the dead man breaths.
Holding everything he loved ,
Holding every speck ;with his love ,
He closed his eyes,
He closed his life.
Thus the dead man breathed.

Is it the butterflies?
Is it the warmth?
Is it the touch?

Said is comparison,
To be the killer of joy.
So is it to believe,
To be the killer of love?

Is it to wait,
Or to be ;waited for?
Is it to search
Or to be ;searched for?
Is it to care,
Or to be; cared for ?

To not be loved,
But to love.
Or to be loved ,
And not love?

When tides change ,
And sides change.
The hero falls prey to a new justice,
And villains change to the new justice.

A genocide of millions,
Is a promise to a billion .
A proof of God's inexistence ,
Becomes a roof of his existence.

Right or wrong - a matter of perspective .
Forgotten are stories, of villains fighting.
Written are histories ,of heroes surviving.
The myths of heroes appear as nightmares for villains.

Love to some ,
Turns into hate for others.
They aren't ,the moral right ,
They are just ,the mortal plight.

Akin to a tree with no shade,
A branch with no fruit ,
It stands tall with no weight ,
A husk with no shade .
Promised the men,
"The tree to provide shade,
To those who eat the fruit" .
With only fruits to be imaginary,
Men stand staring ,
Into the empty husk .

If a dove to approach ,
If a dove to question ,the 'fruits',
“The dove to be lit up " ,said the men,
“It harms the tree “, said the men,
" The Luscious tree cannot be fathomed,
As it not be questioned by simple minds " ,said the men.

The simple minded crow,
To pray for its shade .
For no seem found ,For men still stares.
Stares he at the fallen branches ,
Of a tree with no fruits.

Your purrs, soothing .
Your whiskers, fluttering.
Your cheeks , rubbing.
Your noises, calming.
Your scratches , healing.

Oh I wonder ,
To not be for you ,
I might had laid alone .
To not be for you ,
I to question god.
To not be for you ,
I to cease existing .
As you gave me meaning ,
A meaning for all .

Oh my beloved cat ,
You hanged on tight .
So to make it right,
I hang onto you.
How you hang onto me.

"Merry memories they felt,
Would be remembered ,
Even after their life.
Melancholic memories they felt,
Would be remembered ,
Only through our life.

Decisions they made
Changed ,Decision we made
The world they made
Was lived through us.

Words they made
Forgotten by them.
Words they made
Wouldn't be forgotten by us. "

“See seasons slowly seizing,

****** season starting sneezing,

Summers slowing, Stopped snowing ,

Seashell seeing lies spreading ,

Seaming roots severely scathing,

See the state we saw the seeds in.



Feeding flies, for flower farming ,

Farmers fighting for fields frosting,

Famines fighting, for ties are falling,

Far forgotten days felt freeing,

Failed we, for blooming buds,

Failed we, to fight looming death “

Passing through mists ,travelled he deeper into abyss,
Loosing all beliefs ,discovered he the myths.
Situated there the tremendous oak, whose branches laid broke.
Shrouded was every nook, Unbelievable was the look.
To cover the labyrinth, the aim of the oak.

Twenty year old heavenly tree, with no fruit to see.
No bird near it to nap, as it was nothing ,but a trap.
It stood tall with no weight, a husk which gave; no aid.
No shade, no seed, no flower, no feed,
A hollow disingenuous tree, stretching through routes; as it felt free.

‘Never to leave the labyrinth’, was the destiny of the folk.
As beyond the ground, laid a dozen dead folk.
Despised the oak of, the spreading truth.
“Death to doves, who threaten my youth".
Folks believed of changing season,
Hoped men for fruits from the ‘oak of reason’.

Maintained the oak, all they could.
Stacked they chambers, for all they could.
For all they wanted were changing times,
But all they could were changing tiles.

As times changed, and the labyrinth caved.
The new order was played by, plain old slaves.
They called him ‘the oak’, “the protector” they say,
But peel the bark away , and he is rotten as decay.
Crows around, enforced to the ground,
Worked crows for new lords, among new laws.  

So called men of holy faith, nothing but folks of hollow faith.
Protected men, the oak from nesting doves,
Promised men it caused “harming sprouts”,
But it just made nestling doubts.

Flying through labyrinth, away from the abyss.
Losing all beliefs, discovered the dove ‘true’ myths.
Situated there the colossal gate,
Of which locks laid in a destructive state.
Shrouded was every nook, Unbelievable was the look.
To escape the labyrinth, was the aim of the dove.

I walked away from home,
Away from the pond,
Away from the Tree,
Into the streets that led to the Church.

I walked away from the dogs ,
Walked with the sheep,
Into the streets that led to the Church.

I walked into the Church,
A church with spilled wine
A church with no bread
A church with no man

Only to see a lake
A lake with no end

I walked to the lake
Away from the Church
Only to see a ferry
A ferry full of dogs and sheep

Only to hear a faint sound
A faint sound of men returning
To the Barren Church

An icy cold hand ,
Dragging me through river styx .
He is not one to speak .
But the shadows of me asked,
"Why did I choose to die? "
The echoes crawled through the dead
Never bothered to be answered

Embraced he death closely ,
Hanged her in his hands,
His hands only to recite
"Oh darling he wasn't to know ,
Wasn't to know about you ,
You graced him by ,
Succumbing to you ,
He laughed ,and questioned,
Questioned the absurdity "

"Oh darling you wept ,
Wept for his life,
As it seemed absurd ,
He tried to ran away,
Ran away to face you,
Faced he you with a smile,
Cause he took comfort,
Comfort escaping a new dawn"

"Oh darling ,alas he was human
A Human that faced you ,
You could only weep,
While the widow mourned ,
Mourned by his coat ,
She mourned the absurdity"

"Oh darling ,she was weak
A weak mere human ,
To succumb to you like him,
Like a river to an ocean ,
Ending with your beauty ,
You held her in your arms ,
And weep for her ,
For the river dried up ,
And nobody mourned ,
So you wept and wept
But never mourned "