Walking The Edge

Please listen with the my recording above.. :)



Here’s a man walking
each step feels louder then the prior
His path unpaved
almost hidden from the world
the rocks beneath his toes seem damp
Moist, with tears
Is it short of does it feel long?
Is it reality or deception?

He turns a corner
Looking for his home
past another street another year
Hoping it magically appears
unfortunately it vanishes

Sounds seem to circle his ears
His heart skips a note, trauma
Feet passes a beat
Running away,
but whats chasing him is behind
As he runs before and after

Faced by decisions and turns
where can he face his fears?
Stopping to look
perhaps to hunt an answer
There is no treasure on the treasure map

Stops, peers into a cafe
Still, the world is motionless inside
Floating in his mind insane
Fighting himself his own will
looking aside from his own soul

The snow begins its reign
He stands amongst the snow flakes’ flurry
Each little one trying to bring him down
A step lower, unaware who he was

He stands alone in this cold world
Unsure where the sun rises or sets
Cold and bitter

At home he seems dried and fragile
“Come, come!” beckons the howling wind
Every further step he takes, closer to his home.
His life in disarray
Sirens seem to be calling his name.
The footsteps in the snow,
paved for him.
Follows unwillingly and with uncertainty

Who must he stop?
Where must he wonder?
His life seems distant
Far from himself

At last he arrives to his destination
Some called it death
Where his dreams became reality
Struck with awe and servitude

He calls to those who can hear him
he seems invisible to them
Jumps and turns
lands on his hands and feet

Catching his last breath
It sings from his heart and chest
Warm and heavy
Loud and muddy
Gasp and grasps
With no eyes, not wise

Emotion flows through his mind
Heart pumps with intelligence
Yelling with no tongue
Deaf with no ears
He knows he has reached the end

but,
Life must continue, never cease

Samuel

Meet Samuel.
5 foot 10.
Clothes undetermined.
Arms beaten.
9 o'clock shadow.
Eye almost twitches, unwillingly.
Mind wanders to another time.
He's a man from today.
A savior from yesterday.

He stands amongst the shore of his broken dream.
Looking far beyond his imagination.
Unsure of where he must go.
Looking past the horizon.
The horizon of his own angst.
Dreaming of a better day.
Better yet different.
Sharing his thoughts with those who care.
Looking into the eyes of others.
Looking into the depth of his own dream.
From where must he go to now?
Where will his quest end?

His life seems obsolete.
Miscalculated and at risk.
He can be mistaken.
Mistaken for his own reality.
All he dreams is for logic.
Proven to his words.
All he fathoms is mind.
Heart has far defeated him.
He can look love in the eye.
Without a glimpse of regret.

Light seems to beckon him.
Brought on by a greater truth.
A larger power.
Until how far must he seem void.
Empty with emotion.

As the day seems to end.
Closed.
Like a long awaited journey finally reaching their destination.
He knows that their will be a days end when all will be answered.
His minds and souls, they will all be at heart.
Content without regret.

So said the pauper to the naïve child.

Untitled #37

Trains fleet our cumbersome mind.
Unsure of where they must run.
Their conductor, manages unwillingly.
How must we catch something that we are running from?
We have let the race begin.
Allowed humanity to prevail.
Our mind left behind.
Skeletons molded from our sins.
Clouds evaporated from our tears.
If only we were to grab and render.
Control hearts and minds.
Balance difference.
For difference is true peace and unity.

Summer's Grace

As he takes in summers breath
Deep and moist,
Forgotten the frigid wind.
The cold seems lost.
Exhaust.

Inhale exhale.
He ponder amongst the springs sprig.
One day seems hotter then the rest.
He is scorched without grace.
Beads of sweat, stream his face.
Mother nature laughs.
Ha ha!

Turned away in shame.
With but no one to blame.
As he sings amongst the ashes.
His life just crashes.
Could he be seen crying?
Is it too hard to say he is dying?
Days dedicated, dedicated to love.

But when he is down low.
Where he seems the farthest.
Given the opportunity to achieve greater.
In times of despair comes true answer.
Melting summer, will only melt away his worry.

Fields harvested, room to run.
Run through his vanity.
He stands above the plane.
Hands held high, and beseeches to all a merry and worry free summer.

Brick Break Love

I am not a writer, I merely enjoy writing my aimless thoughts :)
Enjoy.


I beseech your grace.
Unknown to the strangers.
Unspoken to our neighbors.
How must I be who I want to.
If not for you?

You seem to call me when I am down and unspoken.
How must I be myself?
My own happiness.
If you are unheard and lost.
Have you called when I was gone?
How must I ever return?
Return to peace and love.
Where must my mind wander off
In order to catch a glimpse?
To catch a ray of your hope.

As you seem to be so confident and secure.
I am broken from this nightmare.
This game has made me weak and desperate.
How could you or I be one and together?

You look so at peace while I am at such despair.
Gazed into the hollow eyes of love.
Looking forever more.
Forever there is a limit.
Infinite bound.
Bound without reason.
Without song and rhythm

I must look upon others for help.
I seem to be so honest.
I must have her heart in my own.
My mind, in touch with her inner complexion.
Color of old.
Hue of young.
Unsure and lost.
I must gaze into the eyes of freedom.
Look into the other and where must I be found.
Where can I be without the other, without you?

You seem so fine and delicate.
I am afraid to touch your fragile heart.
Your delicate being.
Framed in this so ever perfect world.
Which we might have deemed as perfection.
How must we be perfect? If not for your grace.
You seem to cause perfection.
Without another we might be in touch.

In love with our very being.
In love with our own desires.
We must love that we strive for perfection
We must be coherent with our freedom
Our love for humanity.
Our desire to be whole.
You may seem at peace.
At love with your own being.
We must ask if that is how you may be.
If that is your true desire?

Hidden in your own perfection.
In your own stardom
Your own love.
I thought I was there.
In your redemption.
In your grace.
I guess I was wrong.
I am at peace with knowledge.
With the knowledge of your disgrace.
Disgraced for what and how we may desire.
Unsure of where to begin.
And to make this anymore unsure and anymore awkward
I told you the story of my heart.
The story I have not told many. The story that seemed to have been forgotten.
The story which seemed to be my own.

Lost in this beautiful paradigm
When must we pay heed.
When must we stop obsessing.
When could we be together.
Fulfill this dream.
This ever long journey through your heart.
Through my deception.
I look into your eyes and I don't see any response
The line has been broken.
It has been discounted.
It has been forever lost.
And forever forgotten!
You seem to have all the answers to my darkest dreams.
The answers to my most foolish mind.
To where I want my heart to run.
To gallop to where it seemed free
To where all was forgotten and to where we all seem one.

All that I have wrote has been considered in all its foolishness.

Bona Fide Existence

As I lay in thought and solitude.
Damien ringing in my ears.
I wonder what we desire from days end.
What is it that sates our ever long struggle?
How do we quench that thirst and love for accomplishment?
I have realized that every persons dreams and accomplishments differ from one another.
If I could only dream out loud. Where would that dark fantasy travel?

You look into the eyes of many. For eyes are the soul and tell the human his dreams. Where he has been and where he would ever want to be.
We must look again for that time when we were free
Looking into the eyes of life and opportunity.

For when I look into your eyes, I feel reborn.
You are on my mind from when we dawn and to when we set.
Isn't life supposed to be conquered alone?
Sometimes I feel we must not be alone.
What kind of life is it when not done alone?
I am only familiar with life in solitude. Never realized others.

Brought my own fantasy into reality. My own reality untold and fantasized by others.
How must we view unrealistic? Unreal to oneself or others?
I feel like I am going mad. Mad in my own reality. Unsure of how we feel and unsure of how I feel. I haven't been genuine to my own realism.
Unfortunate life and hopeless love. How my heart longs.
So hard to have something we may not have. Or must sacrifice our morals to even beg. Where is the point where we, stop begging or begin?
How must we sacrifice our dignity to achieve what we truly want or desire?

I've only wanted to believe and achieve my hearts and mind desire.
Sometimes I ponder. What is greater? Heart or mind, to whom must we pay heed?
I feel like true freedom is being able to balance both peacefully and equally.
God bless peace. Peace is our source of true power. Although anger might be beneficiary and great. How must man balance life.
My mind wonders and races. From far lands of feelings to the valley of my stuporous thoughts.

All I wish is to connect all these broken dreams. Link this broken paradigm.

Counterfeit Realism

We ask away our questions, brought together by hopes and dreams.
Lost in this world alone.
Focus on how to self express and become one with the world.
It leaves me alone. Abandoned in this beautiful artistic world I have created.
Who do I share my joy with?
Where do I say my anger?

The canvas of my heart is forever tainted.
I can not add another color, fresh hue or shade of hope.
For I am widowed in this world I have discovered.
It has brought me away from reality not any closer.
As I approach the things that have made me finer and closer to where I want to be. I am unsure what kind of universe I have composed.
When I try to connect the outside.
I am shunned and altered as queer and irregular.
Sometimes I dream of just being regular and normal with things the way I hoped when I was but nine.

I only dream to have the things I can not attain. Why is that?
Why have I become this demented goal seeker, and never content?
She brings light in my darkened eyes and hope and love for the future.
What have I become that my happiness depends on another?
I have become too accustomed and lonely in my own perfect illusion.
Sometimes I feel like I have been floating on clouds, the clouds from my evaporated tears.
And I still have not found the truth in wisdom. For you bring me out of my false dreams.

I have created this myriad of deception.
This reality that I title as real.

Young Artists

I am very fortunate to be friends with many artistic fellows, especially my two close buddies Yudi Lewis and Yossi Belkin.

Yudi the brownish reddish head, is a phenomenal poet and great and deep observer of life. I posted some of his poetry for you to experience your self.

Yossi, I know many people confuse us. We look alike. We have gotten it numerous times. He is a unbelievable graphic designer. Click the here to view his amazing work.

These are shot with a film camera, Minolta SLR with a 50mm 1.7 on Fujicolor 400 roll.










Homage to My Soul, By Yudi Lewis

The silence is more engulfing then the noise of your discontent
More frightening then the dogs barking at my heel
The gap increases
But the feeling grows
At times it tumbles out of my shaking hands and beyond my control
Your hold is strong and deep
Stalking the very shadows of my troubled sleep
My eyes are not Claptons guitar...They cannot weep
Once again I am left confounded
Surrounded by insecurities long gone and buried
They swoosh by fast echoing their sentiments of the past
When we like ordinary people donned our public masks
When we were chaste
And now the time…the time…
It wastes…

Le Poisson Rouge, By Yudi Lewis

Its hard to write a poem
though its all i want to do sometimes
just sit and write
write all day
write through stormy, cloudy, chilly,
warm, and snowy
fast and slow
short and long
summer winter days.

Sometimes I try to capture a dude on the train
sometimes I try to word a couple frolicking in the park
I look for the simple ironies in day to day life
I look at the stereotypes and try to dissect them
as if they were a frog in bio class..

Most people, I have little doubt see this as a fruitless task..
I mean who hasn't tried to capture something as obvious as that..

I want to personalize the world
I want to..
I want to "Carpe diem"

I want to step outside, and inhale the rich Brooklyn air
A mixture of cold pavement
wet leaves
A unidentifiable home cooked meal..
breath it in to the core of my sometimes broken self..

I want to self medicate off the city that never sleeps.
I once asked a a shoeless philosopher on the corner of Bleecker Street
between Sullivan St & Thompson St,
I asked this man in his large tattered jacket
a felt hat at his feet
what is your secret?
by what rules do you live your life?

He looked at me with what i could swore was a twinkle in his eye
flashed a toothless grin
as if mocking the preppy white kid asking his advice
the ultimate full circle, no doubt a reason to laugh ..

Then he spoke and said;
my advice?!
my advice to you;
never give up.
never stop fighting.
never ever give up.
you have a dream?
you go out there and fight for it.

It was an answer i expected
the privileged snob that I am
I robbed him even of that.

Jealousy

Things we desire and those we can not obtain. Forget what we are to achieve how we feel. Disgrace your soul in vain for your ego defines you in the accomplishment you are to exceed. For envy brings us all down to the devils low. Forgotten morals laugh on high as we cling on, claiming them. For humans have lost this feud of jealousy. Ripped dreams and broken hearts are all that accompany your selfish mind. Jealous of what we can not obtain.
Are we jealous for what we don't have? Or for those things we've never dreamed on seeing? Are we being selfish if we dream someone else reality? We are weak for love and have not found its true answer other then in the visions of others. Can true jealousy bring us to a greater and better good? Perhaps it can! But as you test and attempt something so sensitive and fragile it may destroy you. For jealousy as weak as it can be allows you to see beyond what you have not. Are we not all jealous for something or someone? Does that not help you think beyond your self, a true retrospection? So as weak as you might have to be at states of jealousy remember that it can make you stronger.
Being jealous of something or someone you can't attain makes you ponder on how far you may reach.

Third Season

Spring has come, hopefully forever bound.
Trees pregnant and awaiting to deliver.
Stare in the eyes of dignified love.
Why thy ever so beautiful blossom fall to thy pitiful dirt to dance with vermin?
Rain and wind sheds them with disregard.
They laugh or cry as they twinkle into the night.
Getting stuck into our hair.
Holding on for a moment of true beauty.
For a moment of truth justifies all time.
Flowers wither, and beauty fades.
Nature asks to take away what is naturally beautiful to be enjoyed for a moment.
But why cant beauty last forever?
In that moment of beauty there stands the awe to which we succumb to.
A standstill in time and we are there gazing at it for as long as we possibly can.
For its truth at that moment and truth is true beauty.
In a time where we are shamed by falsehood we rarely have a moment of truth.
When that time comes and then goes we are dazed in the true light of beauty…

Reuben

Meet Reuben. I met this pleasant man on my way to the train one sunny spring day. As he sat on the parkway bench so peaceful, a look of content on his face. I felt the need to share a couple words with him and in turn with me.















(Just some thoughts I had after our encounter (again I am no writer, excuse my errors))



Unread.
We all have a story, hidden beneath our false angst.
Life daunts to care.
Forgotten in our mindless abyss.
Tales untold. Dreams not lived.
We obsess times of day again and again.
Peoples lives and loves. How can you be so blind and yet so selfish?
To not care and bother what we believe. And to just look at another.
Life lived and untold and without realization of what has become.
I sometimes wonder why have I become so deep in my own mind?
Why can't I just be alive in feelings and emotions?
My intuitions have grown their own mind and I have but lost mine!
Stuck in a grave of falsehood and just to be better. For what for whom?
To be loved and accepted. Is that how we really decode acceptance.
Are we not trusted on what we are? To other sides we must run?
To fields of hope we travel, to find them torn, neglected, and barren.
Warriors of deception and reality, they have destroyed all that we ever had and believed in.
Could you really dream without sleeping. Without letting go?
Do I have to be away from my true self to feel free?
Convincing my self of how I want to feel. The world poisoning my only truth.
We obsess. Must we free ourselves from Satan's sly reel ?

Yom Hashoah - The Day of Remembrance

Today is Yom Hashoah, the day we remember the horrific Holocaust. I wrote this piece last year for Yom Hashoah, and I felt the need to re-post. I am not a writer so please excuse my errors.

As the day of remembrance approaches we all stand in silence for what and who we are now, a people loved and cared by all. What good is remembrance if we hope to forget? Life of lies and deception. Look at our people their tears and blood have not told us enough? For we seek that which lies beyond our realm of reality. But is that what seems true? Today is the day we remember our people who we have forgot in our lives of fortune and happiness. Today is the day we remember those who have fallen and those in which we seek refuge of their memory. Blood poured, hearts broken, lives destroyed. For what? For whom?

To whom is this mighty god that demands such sacrifices? Ask away as our forefathers didn’t. Die for an answer for they died for a question. The words of god written on their lips as they were brutally crucified by the Satan of humanity. Blood of grief and death covered their face as they yelled to the one who could answer their prayer… They didn’t die for nothing, at least I hope not! Perished for the question to be answered and our answer to be questions.

They told god. “Why has this befallen us? Choose another people!
Have we not given enough blood? Choose another people!
Have you not seen our suffering? Choose another people!
We have spoken from the depth of our heart. Choose another people!
Give back the gift of our holiness.”

On this day we remember and never to forget, for to forget is to let us die and those of evil to prevail. Remember their name and truth. Don’t we strive all of life to answer the unanswered? Haven’t they died trying? Tell me!

Today is the day where the sun stood in utter darkness. Seas dried from this heat of hatred and anger. Replaced with the blood of uncertainty. Have we lost all hope? Don’t know…
We have asked millions of questions, traded them for millions of lives. Have we not given enough? On this day we remember amidst all those that chose to forget.

Run run to the niche of your false salvation, for it will bear evil in return. Have you not seen the pangs of history? It’s wheel of death and servitude? Struggle the days end for the unneeded.

Our tears fill this gaping well of gun wounds. Salt tasting delicacies drip to my gaping mouth of awe and wonder. Puzzlement is far beyond what we could imagine.

Question. Answer. I believe answer is the true question to the answer. If we die trying at least we die like human beings. Mother of hope. Mother of dreams. On this day we remember the past, past and past. Tomorrow is the days of future of a better tomorrow. But today we try, just stop and try, try once more once harder. For the past is what brings us life and what brings us the future, enough about the past.

If we had a dream to live one day in the death camp would we live it? With the same uncertainty. Dancing with vermin or with angels? Would we? To live one second of time tainted with blood and suffering. Should we? Perhaps not. Have we nothing better to do then provoke memory? Today is still the day of remembrance!

As we lie awake in this sleep of memory. Channel one moment of time to answer one question that has been paid for. Live the life our friends couldn’t, only dreamed of. Wake up each day not to remember but to relive the life they have forever fathomed, is this not the answer? Is that not appeasing the boiling blood of wrath? We must live by what we thank, forget the despised and remember for what we live.

If I had six million days, I would be complete, sated, and content with the question we were born with.

Today is the day we may struggle to forget but die trying. Remember those who have died trying to live!

Redeme the Destructed - 9th of Av

On this night the 9th of AV, I lay and cry for the rebuilding of our temple. It says, “For every sickness there’s a cure and for every exile there’s a redemption.” On the day of destruction of our sacred temple there was born the builder and redeemer of hope for a better tomorrow. Not to focus on annihilation and destruction. Concentrate on the rebuilding and redemption.
For some it’s hard to imagine and conceive the temple. It is something so far beyond our realm of imagination and fantasy. For this we cry. We cry for our tears to be real and true.
Do we stand in synagogue and lament for our sins when the next day it’s forgotten? When we are poignant on our sins and wrong doings, then we conceive this hope and faith, to learn of our misdeeds and our actions. Forever.
On this day we read the past and look at the future. Where we stood and where were going to stand, we know our challenges and fights.
It’s not to be happy but sad for the future, for the better.

Dying Star

My dying star of hope forever lies within and sanctifies the truth.
O’ star of glory you have shown so brightly for so long took us through dark and lead us to the light of hope.
Never to forget, hard to remember.
For when you die who will ever shine as bright as you.
Star of faith. Star of fantasy.
I lay beneath you as you twinkle me a song, my song.
I have not forgotten the day I lay there before I knew you existed.
Have we not all once looked up and stared into your eyes, tried to dream, fathomed you.
But like all of life we are mortal.
Death may extinguish your light.
For me it has only made it greater.
Your light shines so ever brighter in my heart.
O’ dying star when you crash and fall, its my heart and soul where you crawl.


Here's some music I wrote for this piece. Enjoy!
(Note: If player does not load, try clicking on the title and playing it there)


Click To Play: Dying Star

Insane Within

For one is in two, as we are none. Life just seems to take oneself and turn us into a shadow of untruth and deception. When we seem weakened by our morals we find solace in something other than our problem. For curing the symptom doesn’t cure the problem. For our symptoms source is far deeper. Void our self of oneself and become another.
Why does one being so suddenly seem so split and confused. Why we try to be something were not. Engulfed by how people view us. Why can’t we just let go and not care. Believe in truth and accept its toll of insanity. Free yourself of the mask of deception. Evoke the truth in self-being. Justify time with bliss. Free the captive with enslavement. Be mad for once and no one will mind. Breathe air of freedom and arrogance. For you live in a world of deception and those who are insane find true solace in times of distress.
Mad for life. Mad for love. Mad for beauty. Madly insane.
Curtains cloak us in a balloon of poisoned air. Explode this dreadful encasement. Fall and fall into the unknown sky. Hope for life to catch us in its graceful hands for being free is like non other.
So if two were one we would be forced to agree. We move whilst our shadow doesn’t. We must believe it. Hope and pray life beckons the insane within.

Cage of Sorrow

If there is one thing you learn in life, all we become is viewed on who we are and at time when all hope is lost we implore from within. From the place we never thought existed. Concealed in something beyond what we knew was ourselves. Life beacons the deepest. It is our task to implement it.

Life’s goal is not to change others, to disregard oneself, but rather to uncover and explore that which makes us all. Life in sorrow has been forsaken and cursed? We ask. Opposite, it has been blessed, united with life and lesson. It will always stand together, united. To drag someone down in this mess and succumb to this rule adhering way has been thought old fashioned.

Were locked up in our secret and trouble. Vowed to the world never to reveal them. You feel they are tainted with sin and unhappiness. Living your life alone and lying to the people you love. Never believing in the other. Locked in our cage of sorrow, lust, and hunger for that which we don’t have. Were made up of memories, infused in our system. Life is about unlocking that prison of hidden dreams, and realizing what we can really do. Letting our spirits soar ever so higher. Let us all have that ability to achieve that which we have always dreams about.

Prayer 74

With intriguing unison we stand and think of your holy name. Contemplating defense for your tempered wrath. Summon high and call from the depth. Think of the truth you called to rest. You expect the best when we have none to give. Enveloped in mysteries, with no clue of it. There is nothing with your grandeur and no way to explain you. Even with a million years and a million hints we still wont be able to. There is no word to expound; it is just but a limitation.

We can’t draw you, express you, or explaining you. You are attained, being the unattainable. You are unlimited, by your limitedness. God answers us in a time of despair for we may continue to serve you. For our minds are confused, open our eyes and hearts. That is the only way to value in our insanity. We’ve created walls for our echoes. Built lives to destroy with ponder. May you rebuild it back to unite our minds and heart, forever god I say Amen.

Untitled 1

A man argues with that which upsets him most. Because a person must revolt with what he believed. As dusk dawns and the flowers wither we are left with none but our thoughts. Ponder of what were a small grain of dust and sand amongst a vast ocean of troubled dreams. We should not flow and sway with the uncalculated wave of misfortune unsure of its tide and its rip far stronger then we can fathom until we are left on a desolate wasteland of unfinished plans.

If we so but had the power to fight the wind of change and become what we were to be. Forest die and animals savage but that has no say in the life of god. Flower of hope which forever sprouts new love and courage.

If we could grasp on the ropes of our heart and just stare into the eyes of what was a ray of our salvation. The spiral tunnels of misfortune always lead itself to the right place. For the night end we all puzzle to fit that what we cant answer. If we could just some way fit in with our surroundings and not caged in figment of enslavement. To our body and mind, free yourself of the yoke of deception and falsehood.

Dreams

A dream is a step out of reality. It’s a step higher and deeper. You could love someone you hate and hate someone you love. Go out of reality the wildness of the real and live yourself out of the paradigm of life. Lose yourself and imagine the unimaginable. Fathom the feint of insanity. Reawaken your thoughts you terror.

When the nights chill and the owl calls come you fall and lie you leave and despair. While your soul leaves you and you dream. Unaware of whom you are and why you are. Your soul raises, conscious mind halts, while your sub-conscious flows. Then you dream dreams you love and dreams you hate, and ones you love cause of hate. The mind forgets it because it doesn’t believe. Stands with spite. Must be a replay, a spirit, but your mind perceives you’re heart desire. There are those who dream whilst awake. They don’t know who they are. They just flow and follow their instincts.

Beasts in the lack of sense of reality. They lose themselves and think they know themselves. Their lost. Perceive an imagination of reality so insane so obscure. In a charm, they live in a dream. It’s a contagious account. The reality is an insane feat; just stubbornly believe the dreams dream.
Man dreams of hope a vision of redemption. From the self-delusion of his own serenity to the tranquility of the abode. He’s lived forever by play. He’s directed onto a scene and is not even getting paid. He’s committed his own victim. Neither cares or knows of its pain and gash it has inflicted, the harm it suffers. Its cry he cannot understand. Seems like a foreign language. More sonic waves we may not hear. The captive is yelling. Until he pulls the chain of development and yanks it till its heard and allowed for all to hear. “God oh god please save me from my misery. I beg you my lord please help!” forever he may plead. There’s journey of hope for when a man may desire it he will be enlightened and be flabbergasted and go beyond himself and know whole truly his potential.

Madness of God

We dream to see him but could we?
We describe his glory and splendor but should we?
We imagine his strength and wisdom but can we?
He envelops and engulfs this world in mystery.
He conceals himself within himself.
He knows everything before you.
You paint his face but does he have one?
You realize his strong arm but does he posses one?
You think he hates you when he loves you.
You describe his actions as curses when there really blessings in disguise.
You think you know him when it’s impossible to know.
You cry out of pain from your suffering, when really they should give you joy.
We credit the work of our hands when it was given to us.
We mistake nature as natural.
We have faith in time of glee and spite in time of pain.
The world is not when we think it is all.
We fool ourselves, and think we fooled the world.
We are petrified of insanity; we fear it or are it.
We have a phobia, illness, and madness for God.
We try to portray, describe, and imagine.
Dream, hope, and live.
Die to long, desire and feel.
All else we fathom but God we cannot.
With zeal I say we are mad for God.