Out of nowhere
Someone freed me
Out of that mere benevolence
Whoever did it
Didn't apprehend that
It meant more
Than anything
Not only to me
But also to those emotions
And notions
That were embedded
In the layers of tenebrosity
They all were at sea
And couldn't find a way
They cried to be free
But all I could do was
Sing them a lullaby
Till they went to sleep
How grateful is all
That is in me
That I can’t elucidate
Them into words
Only tears fall down
And heart stings incessantly
To have one last sight
That once uncaged me
And my all
From the cage
That tried devouring us
While we chanted
To be alive.

Mnemosyne daughter of urain,
The intricate mixture of intellect and memory insane,
She's the mother of dwellers of bathos and Forbidden tales,

She's driven by her mad eye imagery,
Her ken is transcending many ranges of this age,
She can quickly sail into the abyss that's pretty less sailed,

She's in a consecutive mode of change,
Her energy levels rise and fall,
Like troughs and crests of wave,

She's the personification of thought,
She reaches the outlandish realms,
Consuming and gathering the wisdom of odd,

She depicts imagery of bathos,
As if it were something too easy to get in,
Or to get lost,

She's the extreme thunder in the world of thought,
She strikes those that choose not to think for themselves,
And in doing so she helps them find their way out of dim.

Somewhere
Deep
Inside you
Is what
I wish
To reach
So that i
Can make
You weep
To such
Extent
That you're
Only left
With is
Love,
Harmony
And
Peace.

Somewhere in this verse,
What's lost can be found,
It's through patience,
And it's through your Love-
That it can be ever found.

Being called upon
By something
Peculiar
Is all that I need
To live in this world.

 Apr 4 Cornelius
patty m 

Divine intervention
extensions of grace
kiss the doubt from the
blind man's face.

Yet all are blind and deaf
so few left who truly believe
when tricksters smile and
cunningly deceive.
Where is the lamb
who died for man

How cold are the carpenter's hands.

What many joys was it able to make happen?
What many mysteries it was made to unravel?

What many soul's it was meant to capture?
What many dream's it was meant to travel?

None the creator knew
None the ether too

What was in the creator's mind-
No one ever knew

Even the master's held wars-
Trying to understand this ether or hue

The potion of sublime an antedulivian drive
It had emerged from the arrow's of sorrows

Now far from harmful lines
Kept in a plain lucastrine

The ether, the potion, the celestial ocean
All name's given to this piece of devotion

This potion is pure and rare
It could be a wish, meditation or even a prayer.

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