It would seem, that, humans,
Too sensitive to deal with the harshness of life
Prefer to fly on clouds, even if temporarily
To make themselves believe
That existing can be made of goodness!
Opiates, making of them zombies,
Accrue! And selling lords, depending on these
Turn into millionaires, selfishly patting their stomachs
After each meal they pay themselves with the dependency of
These frail souls!
Why, would it be too much to see humans self-imbibed with faith
Regardless of however such may be presented, but,
Having as sole aim, the drive and the power
Which would allow them to live their ascribed due
While keeping a mental check that everything about life
Is temporary; from pleasures to pain;
From satisfactions to miseries
From smiles to bloody tears!
Why, would those same opiate yearning suffering souls
Not have opened their wings
And spread the warmth of their soul
Across lands and seas?
Pray, Earth is a mere prison, and we, humans
Have broadened limits
Though we do have the capacities to cross borders
In the very end, we find roots grown from our feet
And fastening us to Earth’s soils
Till the winds of the unknown
Blow out our candles and take our consciousness
Gliding across realms we are yet to discover!
Being a prison, existing here is bound to be harsh
And the power that thrust us here
Shall be merciless and cruel
While expecting us to kneel in front of it
Seeking repentance and redemption!
Escaping the reality, through temporary and addictive rides
On false and colorful clouds
Will have us ending nowhere except going in circles
In an unexplained world, revolving upon itself
And binding us to the reactions of our actions!
Opiating reality, submerging psychotic abuse
Alarming concern, immersing and suffocating us
In a sea of revulsion, in which either we drown
In its waters and turn into its foams
Or, we reach the shores guided by our intrinsic
Belief in the blinking lights of our perception of a lighthouse!