Land has now been granted hope, we are stood at the foot of the gates of Heaven, down the middle between the two halves, the path is short and narrow to make it Home. A golden Sun-Rai as it shines this day, I thought would shine no more out there, not like in here anyway. Now I see that if I am there, then I must still be here, it shines forever somewhere in the atmosphere. Only in here can one see such a beautiful sight fall on the shoulders of fortunate eyes, and those who dare to look inside can climb wall of trust and find. Choice and fate is but a lie because at the same time i'm living and dying.
In a sense, the world is a mere place, to find a safe haven from all the troubles man has conjured with his trusted sidekick, then in the silent space does one see the truth matter. In another sense, or, a senseless state of being, if there was to be such a thing, ignorance will be the leader of a faithless army, which do we see today in all its might, weak links and all, twisted kinks of left and right, but with no glory whatsoever, no solution at in sight. So choice and fate is but a lie, here and now I'm living and dying.
The fallen cannot yet hope to rise, whilst duty isn't paid to turn the tide. The water still warm from the light in the sky, but they who see there can never settle here, why? Look with the eye of the heart, the being of essence will surely lead us home. How can we see anything, any other way? The love that we feel is the love of the Higher, though the feelings I have are the painful grasps of terror and darkness that pervade the sands and linger as sweat along the shoreline, somewhere between choice and fate, oh what a lie! Every night I perish then, again I rise.
It is either all or nothing, I place my hand in the pot and pull out my hand. The pot is empty and here I find solitude and balance. When every pot is full, I take with, burden to bare, it just seems to stick to my hands, what can I build now? The curtain draws from deep within, and not without. Those who seek over there always have something to shout about, when there, the marker changes and here becomes there again, what a conundrum with how much doubt. Choice or fate must be a lie, truth is proof with no surprises.
Careless in their speech they linger across the shore again, back across what seems to be their past, though the realistic moment, not the future that they grasp, hoping to find a lost soul to capture - maybe their own and life is now broken, a fracture, too far from home. What is freely given can never be captured in the dark of the taken, the illusion of darkness stops man from being swept away you see. In the early hours, wake, rise to the God-given sunshine, the water drops are moist in the air to temper the skin and shield it from the harsh breeze that blows from the mouth of ‘those.’ - Their fate and choices are none of mine, because here and now i'm living and dying.
They are yours, whichever way you pose, of course. For man has scorned his woman, though she gave him the iron rod, he chooses force over power whilst conjuring right and wrong. What of fate then? Who would have such an epic task to fulfill, to gather the dying petals, there is such a one. The unfortunate, so it seems, though what a glorious job under God to clean the wounds of the falling, then help them graze in the glades where new petals grow of shapes unseen and more than seven shades of green to know. Falsities shall fall away and therein lies the seed of hope, the seed which grows out of the concrete rose and heads tall for the Sun in its stature and pose.
I already chose how i'll die i suppose.
I already chose how i'll die i suppose.
Shining on without help and so we do, limitless and boundless, searching for truth. He or she that does not see, of course not, it wasn’t meant to be! She sees what she wants to see, and so will he as long as it should satisfy one, two, then a third makes three. Choice and fate are not with me and they pass it down so seductively. Get yourself together, be one, who else could find the way home, two of us, three, or four of us? We are that One are we not? Was there ever such as thing as two of us? Where in the world can you find two of anything apart from the eyes, which multiplies? - And haven’t they already caused the both of us enough pain, I see now that one is enough, thank you very much so choice and fate is but a lie, because here and now i'm living and dying.
You were with me, but wanted them, and when you had them you wanted me again. Where would you be without me you see, me, the endless personality. Well...You'd probably be far from here right now, you'd be free as a bird right here and now.
The only thing man ever had to to be, now we see was me, being true, to Me.
Daniel Dempster.
In a sense, the world is a mere place, to find a safe haven from all the troubles man has conjured with his trusted sidekick, then in the silent space does one see the truth matter. In another sense, or, a senseless state of being, if there was to be such a thing, ignorance will be the leader of a faithless army, which do we see today in all its might, weak links and all, twisted kinks of left and right, but with no glory whatsoever, no solution at in sight. So choice and fate is but a lie, here and now I'm living and dying.
The fallen cannot yet hope to rise, whilst duty isn't paid to turn the tide. The water still warm from the light in the sky, but they who see there can never settle here, why? Look with the eye of the heart, the being of essence will surely lead us home. How can we see anything, any other way? The love that we feel is the love of the Higher, though the feelings I have are the painful grasps of terror and darkness that pervade the sands and linger as sweat along the shoreline, somewhere between choice and fate, oh what a lie! Every night I perish then, again I rise.
It is either all or nothing, I place my hand in the pot and pull out my hand. The pot is empty and here I find solitude and balance. When every pot is full, I take with, burden to bare, it just seems to stick to my hands, what can I build now? The curtain draws from deep within, and not without. Those who seek over there always have something to shout about, when there, the marker changes and here becomes there again, what a conundrum with how much doubt. Choice or fate must be a lie, truth is proof with no surprises.
Careless in their speech they linger across the shore again, back across what seems to be their past, though the realistic moment, not the future that they grasp, hoping to find a lost soul to capture - maybe their own and life is now broken, a fracture, too far from home. What is freely given can never be captured in the dark of the taken, the illusion of darkness stops man from being swept away you see. In the early hours, wake, rise to the God-given sunshine, the water drops are moist in the air to temper the skin and shield it from the harsh breeze that blows from the mouth of ‘those.’ - Their fate and choices are none of mine, because here and now i'm living and dying.
They are yours, whichever way you pose, of course. For man has scorned his woman, though she gave him the iron rod, he chooses force over power whilst conjuring right and wrong. What of fate then? Who would have such an epic task to fulfill, to gather the dying petals, there is such a one. The unfortunate, so it seems, though what a glorious job under God to clean the wounds of the falling, then help them graze in the glades where new petals grow of shapes unseen and more than seven shades of green to know. Falsities shall fall away and therein lies the seed of hope, the seed which grows out of the concrete rose and heads tall for the Sun in its stature and pose.
I already chose how i'll die i suppose.
I already chose how i'll die i suppose.
Shining on without help and so we do, limitless and boundless, searching for truth. He or she that does not see, of course not, it wasn’t meant to be! She sees what she wants to see, and so will he as long as it should satisfy one, two, then a third makes three. Choice and fate are not with me and they pass it down so seductively. Get yourself together, be one, who else could find the way home, two of us, three, or four of us? We are that One are we not? Was there ever such as thing as two of us? Where in the world can you find two of anything apart from the eyes, which multiplies? - And haven’t they already caused the both of us enough pain, I see now that one is enough, thank you very much so choice and fate is but a lie, because here and now i'm living and dying.
You were with me, but wanted them, and when you had them you wanted me again. Where would you be without me you see, me, the endless personality. Well...You'd probably be far from here right now, you'd be free as a bird right here and now.
The only thing man ever had to to be, now we see was me, being true, to Me.
Daniel Dempster.