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fate is but a mist
blaring fiercely with its breath
unto eyes of days
Its all smoke, fate.
Can I live
through skin and bones
and not have soul within

Or shall I be
a floating mist
with no more touching skin

Will I run
the spinning world
with feet to plant the ground

Or will I rot
with breezing scent
and not have sprung a sound
Human kind yearns to mark a history of their name within hard walls, than of soft sand. And with such desire comes war, a battle between mind, soul, and body. A journey to see which conciousness remains. A quest in question.
The eye of my blood blinks crimsons
And sweat thick nuggets of gold

It glistens through sheens of purple
And flickers when it be so bold

It throbs with pulses of grayness
So stricken in pain and sore

It ravages pitches of black
And swallow it dark even more
I once had fooled a shadow
It looked not where as I
Its eyes captured horizons
Mine voyaged the sky

Then las we locked sight
Ran deep in sinking stare
Our eyes now stranded
Our minds roamed elsewhere
Wrap the bones
of wicked men
and gravel it below

Coat with sand
and dampened soil
nay let a white bestow

Sow a seed
of blossom blood
in center of the ground

Watch it spread
to heaven's eye
'til no grave is to found
Sounds a bit vaguely horrid, huh?
The eyes are threads of rivers
flown rapidly through skies

The mind, a straying cricket
sailing leaf-bound as it cries
Curiosity in never question but rather instinct
Let the walls run deep
into the stairwells of vision

Let the walls fall through
below the rivers of noise

Let the walls soar by
over massing clouds of scent

Let the walls be still
'til one small word is spent
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