What happens in the unknown ?

Sages preach of "knowables" and "unfathomables",
but I perceive it to be a cognitive game since my attention is always fixated
on patternized characteristics and sceneries.

I've known and loved myself enough to  know not to invest my thoughts or actions in impulses
Yet from time to time, I tolerate myself.

Life might be identified as unknowable but we all live and die,
consumed by a spectrum of unnecessary emotions and intense analyses
to finally, ironically, conclude that death is punishment.
So, we befriend God like deceitful hypocrites, seeking immortality and monetary advantage.

Still, many believe in the procedure of acquirement through encounter.

Perhaps if you go further for once, you might find human alternatives locked in unusual dispositions,
veiled, yet waiting to be discovered.

Death only happens to those who have merit,
and what happens in the unknown is never open to analysis,
for what stops death
is awareness.



Words Of Harfouchsism

Awake i found the languages have changed in my sleep
The sequence of words is lost and so is my power to will

People talk strange but sill imitate their creator
Behaviour is predictable when you're attached to a prayer

Obey my ageless tongue

I dare question my presence in this dimension
With one intention
An ancient practice and an encounter
The timelessness of magic shall bring back my willpower

The symbols are drawn
The words are assembled
At the crack of dawn
I shall have my answers




Words Of Harfouchism

Drip Drop, Drip Drop.
The rain patters in the distance.
Crash.
A loud noise heard in the distance.
Creek, Creek.
The sounds of old wooden boards.
All this in a lost forest.
The forest gone within minutes.
The image of a human.
Drip Drop, Drip Drop.
Their tears shatter on the floor.
Crash.
A picture thrown upon the floor.
Creak, Creak.
A parent at the door, of the sorrowful.