Cosmic Cry

Feel the pulse of morn

Dew that reeds the sky

Breathing tenderness,

Softness, innocence

And pity!

Pity for the evil that lay

Lurked in the ways of man

Performed in the heart of the day

with ignorance, despair

And that little thing called Ego
Feel the pulse of noon

Scorch that sons the sun

Bleeding blood,

Anger, death

And hope!

Hope that sanity will thrive

Stupidity n longer dwells

As a celebrated turtle

Receding the race
Feel the pulse of the moon

Retracting like a petrified snail

lulling through the night

Scoping the corrupt

Dance to a sinister tune

drummed with a penchant for revenge

Violence and mischief

Rage clouds the mind

in anticipation for the morn
Only now does it bleed…

Please! Please!

Quell this evil


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