Like a lake of glass,
or an endless, cloudless sky.
Calm is a virtue.

O noble light, o noble lights!
The babe has learned to crawl,
and the virtues which we possess
call continually to the poor and
oppressed among us. I don't know
when this cry may ease, but
the Bugle tells us to buttress the hearts of
these oppressed folk.

We are not to stay still upon our light, rather
we are to make it burn brighter in our hearts.
This is the day to make our character known in the
hearts of the oppressed.

Pondering existence itself:
mere deadweight for "success"
this narrative of the times
must be upheld as sacred
absolute!

The religion of modernity is that
of willful blindness taken
as a virtue

Benign
harmless
or so we are led to believe:

that it is the mark of a healthy man
to never use his brain!

Cold is felt, but are you shivering.
Heat bares down, and are you panting?
The winds of change flare and pass
In time no fare is due from past
Are you waiting.
Feel the pain, without strength, forlorn
Or sit all the same, no blood, no toil
It’s yours, there, glory or shame,
This time, life’s stake, victory no blame.

Wealth is a wheel which
vice and virtue turning well.
Solo vice follows,
fain to the wealthy abodes.
Why virtue is left behind?

Done living double life,
Done executing half-hearted attempt,
Done playing safe game,
Done lying inside safety bubble,
Done scavenging through illusion and mirages.
Finally, I am awakened, I am done drifting.

Now, that I know I am not special,
I am just a common man- a mortal.
Trying to live life in present;
hoping to leave a dent in the process.

I am part of this filthy world
Laden with perfect imperfection.
I want access,
I want to witness,
I want to experience things;
Forbidden.
I want to indulge, effacing innocence
With the licentious.

No! No! No! are you getting an idea?
I am not a demon in making.
Least of all- Devil.
You are yet to see the other half of me,
Which I think you will ever see.
Or, perhaps deserve to know.
So don’t come hard at me.
You are nowhere near to judge me.
Don’t call me a savage.
I’m not.
I am just being true to myself,
a bit generous-giving exposure to my alter ego.
Don’t call me sordid- a barbarian.
For being honest, admitting thing or two-
So to say confessing.
I know, for you are no different.
For sure, no exception.
You are nothing but pretending or perhaps unaware of.
I better cherish heinous crime consciously than abstaining
Myself with moral scruple.
For I know now that abstinence will **** us unconsciously anyways.