Who is this?
A writer speaking to another -
to whom it may concern.
What sadness do you attend to?
That peculiar grief encircling you.
You hear whispers that blight your grounds,
Clinging unto you with very much different sounds,
So insane - so sane - so insane,
One after the other, the stretching claws of
this morbid bane,
Uncalled for, but in laden laid,
Hush little one - there is for no reason
to be afraid.
"But why is the fear so real?"
You may ask and knock the door,
"Why are things so perplexed?"
You may wonder
while lying on the cold and ***** floor,
But then a question better -
'Why - are we even here?'
Why are our feet standing on this ground?
Whilst all stories are getting sadder,
What materialism blinds us from -
is what our ears had grown deaf and
had forgotten of one much important sound,
Hush little one - close and open your eyes again,
Are not the skies so vastly laid and beauteous?
Now bring your attention from where all things had began,
Are not the trees that bear fruits, growing and in surplus?
Hush little one - for we are all small and insignificant,
Those who are arrogant will fall,
And yes - we are mankind, the one chosen,
bestowed proprietary as a vicegerent ,
But the mountains laid are ever more
sturdy and tall,
Hush little one - all of us were born to die!
And do not mistake my hush as to undermine,
Hush! Silence the world and close your eyes!
And let your heart and mind open
to find the shine!
The light that bursts and could cure the heart,
A light like no other -
that no darkness could tear apart.
Hush - and clear your mind,
Hush - for you have forgotten of The Lord Benign.