Only the strong can be pierced by the sharp sword of truth Only the strong walk unarmed unafraid into the fire Only the strong carry the weak and shield the hapless For strong is its own master never servant to mere powers
The day on a high reaches the peak over the pyramid. Shrouded in twilight now tucked in light pushes the envelope. The whole panache of stars came out in the pitch dark. The North Star is on the way oh do me a favour I will tell you why.
Veil the angle of dawn in the black shades of the night. There are dark caves even inside the pyramid scientists, trained eyes yet to tread on that way.
Put on it only an instance of your kohl the daylight is already a burnt mole. Light in the wrap in the night your muslin veiled silken moonlight is enough to find the tuberose’s earth.
If the tucked away sun crops up once again over the morning’s rose petals. Again it will dive deep into the angle after an angle in the black hole of the night. A far cry from the glowing firefly eyeing blindfolded behind the moon perfectly beyond every looking star. Until the master arts in silk black finds the true pencil not in visualising but catching the views of the sunrise through the lens of the rose pollens’ kohl-eyes.