This age is the worst of whirlwinds,
of minds lost and souls scattered,
Puppets stringed with wills fettered,
unaware of times shattered
and clinched to things of worldly matters.
There is no guide to survive these events, tragic,
no time to apply for a power of magic,
can't stay aloof or lay unchallenged,
something must be done and habits managed,
to change for good
and break the cages.
At least we try to overcome the risk of embarrassment
and fight temptation to show off,
not to lose the clear judgement,
to stop and look around,
when crowds rush to abyss with veils in front
and minds intoxicated,
unable to resist the urge to run for stuff fabricated.
We'll be enemies to friends and friends within enemies.
Always ask questions and not to pray for answers,
but dig and scavenge in wilderness of knowledge,
do things for their own sake
and always thrive for perfection
not for God, not for principles, not for ***,
but for perfection's sake.
The worst is to lose identity,
become a slave of indolent mob,
to be blind to light and sighted to darkness,
to loose the place to stop.
Remember to talk to inner god,
he might know the truth,
get injected with words, ideas and books of wisdom,
to shield from craze of this age's groove.
Dead could be precious than living
ideas, than mount of gold.
No one knows anything
it's only a dirt of the world.