Thou shall employ strength and pry
But the impure monstrosity will leave you wry.
Even when your blood's awake and arise to help,
Your sore conscience won't even delve.
If this is the truth, the essence,
So suffer shall the soul till it lessens.
For who knows what lies beyond
Unless one really gets to behold.
It is then that they realise
Whatever they believed in were preposterous and lies.
What they beheld was a facade,
Lest they once thought it was the treasure they sought.
What they truly sought was to make them gain,
And Whatever they bought was fantasy main.
A test, an examen to ascertain man's belief,
He knows! What they desire surely leads 'em to grief.
For man was once innocent,
Untill the eternal foe flinched it.
Who would've thought that there exists another,
So as the Prophets claimed to people other.
It is the laboured struggle that they faced
Which conjugated mankind and made them laced.
It is this when fantasy comes into play,
Along with his brother reality who is to slay.
One contradicts the other hand on hand,
Such as the eternal ying and yang.
The reality lies beyond, only if the see.
Do reckon not that this is thee,
For thous (is) for the eternal essence,
The purest form, of him illumined,
That lives unfading.
The ephemeral soul is just a tenant,
Paying a rent residing in the raiment.
When lady death eventually knocks
Aching to devour, it yields
And transcends from the temporary garb
Surpassing into the eternal abode.