The Psalms of Mortality: The Chameleon Persecutor Unmasked Page 2
Of freeze,
This time I were the prize of victory,
The other time my opponent made me smile from my loss.
What I now say will hurt your feelings:
The free really do not care about the names given to them!
Stain not can you a vessel who is his own judge:
The weights of their eyes were not mine;
What is expected of you in my eyes?
Is that what is expected of you in my eyes?
Whose are the eyes to give names to each others,
And if such eyes existed,
No mortal would care,
But have joy from the forms he was now free to be!
22.
Beneath their masters,
In created rules of thoughts made as a maze here,
All rise through them,
And fall through them,
Let me give a ceremonial medal for myself,
And yet,
These must be our ways.
Not lies,
But the creation of this realm according our own image,
Not in vain,
And so will carry the mark of gain and glory,
Loss and shame.
For hearts resigned away from this,
The free work to develop,
Yet their ears turn to listening,
Dear to my heart is the success of the aim of one’s purpose.
From this low path separate the giants,
And look for higher way:
In the mastery of knowledge,
There is boundless humanity!
I wish for the might,
But now I am but an enduring giant!
23.
I am an heir of the wealth of my ancestors.
“Each day as if it were our whole life,”
From not deserving this existence have you still been born?
You seek not my fulfillment,
But yours,
Equally deserving!
How the captain of your ship could otherwise be crowned,
Wreck is a ship whose captain is the countless advisors instead of instinct and the heart!
In experience we travel like from place to place,
Heart and desire like clay,
Unwholesome until the birth of again and again,
And then the transient one seeks to see the openings inside the experiences,
Being fulfilled.
24.
Who's there within us?
The enemy or the protector;
This done,
He made peace with good and evil,
Thus ascending outside them.
Out of pure honesty will the shame be rid of,
What inhibits you from your own rising!
Come up here,
My brothers and sisters of time and mortality,
But for all times must we still live,
Countless generations are yet to be born,
Give room for others to rise´,
But who’s there within us,
This fellow of our own time,
Like a beast the innocence is chained!
25.
Masterful were the thoughts of the great William Shakespeare,
Like plants, after the gatherer are ideas named,
Belonging to no man!
Sober one’s see this even in themselves,
His own insignificance with the ideas universal in nature.
Forth had his mind went to conquer,
And gazed at them uninterrupted,
For his own joys.
In any staining with a name,
The great conquerors set down their kingdoms to rise.
You shall see them deserving their thrones,
Wherefore others guard their royal palaces!
26.
The ancient coalitions once opened before me,
The blind one's nation: And distasteful were my eyes with the old.
A hurdling island, raised like a divine garden;
In squares, not in spheres directed were their course,
Let each nation carry her flag for eons!
In dusk of the first star,
The song of the ancestors were sang,
But I will not be your advocate,
For I am not of any nation.
Oh these old kings,
Why will they keep us so bound,
For the ancient coalitions were of war and land,
And still the same,
The orchestra of our own undoing awaits;
I will not be your advocate,
For I am not of any nation.
27.
After your will shall your path be laid out for you,
You have conquered the sea,
The gratitude of unforeseen cultures is within your flame.
Draw a sword against our own enslavement,
But who is to say this aloud:
With our own thoughts,
With ideas of the past and the present,
We have enslaved ourselves!
Practice the mastery of knowledge.
The needs of your arising are now everywhere!
And to the queen and the king of these secret arts,
Abominations against the rights of the mortals are undone.
28.
The radiant white light;
In a kingdom of thought,
All this temptation to resist its birth raging,
Maddened by the liberty of a kingdom without a throne of deception,
Sheltered;
What was not changed,
And yet now the right and left hand greet,
The touchstone of humanity,
Out of light and darkness were our spirits forged,
But for that war,
Our mortal souls wage no more.
29.
The smart,
Talk no more of the fight,
With a fiery sword the geniuses are now rising!
Not for profit,
But for the light to rise,
And thus we greet their emergence,
For not even dragons shall bare their names!
Too eloquent for silence,
Arrived are the last of all the kings,
Against a false prophetic world,
And for the disillusioned mind,
Their boundless forms,
Extending inside the minds of others,
Like a great river,
Will their forms be expanded,
But for your own sake will their words be like fire:
For well forged, and not to the folly,
The eternal call its song!
The lineages of the past will be broken.
30.
My love for celebrities,
Oh how lovely pack of proud geese I see,
How shall I,
Chronos Art feed them,
For these geese I enjoy,
My eyes are fond of the feathers they proudly present;
My beloved,
For this the history should not remember you,
For the radiant beauty alone,
But for how you took your family to the place of this age’s richness;
Others are exiled from the history’s memory,
The flock of geese forgotten,
Upon your throne you shall sit from now on,
The future shall take your kind heart within them,
For I write this so that history will remember.
31.
Forever in youth are our souls,
Let the finders of this fountain keep their victory!
Weep not, O mortal,
And O my soul,
The tears are from the loving heart;
When you listen to all sides,
Cast aside the temptation for bitterness,
Cynical are bound by the ribbons of their own thought.
32.
This I quote from the wise:
“The past is to have twice enjoyed it all.”
Destined for the liberation of the soul,
Yet as shadowed and veiled slavery is everywhere,
The temptation to again serve ideas returns;
What you have to say to ideas?
Who is there that would hear you?
More than your brothers and sisters of mortality!
Think each moment as a time given from your life,
The cost of all is life,
You could play these games the illusionists play,
I shed no tears for their choice,
I did not make them feel misery out of giving life to a game,
I lived to rejoice from my life,
I lived to rejoice from the lives of my brothers and sisters,
And for the same reasons I traveled in sorrow and pain;
I fear them not, nor names,
But a life without the rights of the mortal,
The sacrifice of my whole life for causes others than my own,
That I fear.
33.
Where little children are made to be ashamed of themselves,
There the psychologists flourish;
A mirror that turns everything bright and beautiful to be ugly,
A false mirror trusted to be a mirror,
Such is handed for the little children unto their adulthood,
For this time of mortality!
Lovers of life were not born,
Condemnation spoke and so they died,
Content is all you experience,
Experience is all you live in,
You can break the false mirror,
Be angry as you defend who cannot defend himself,
Let him have a mirror of knowing himself;
For either of them is true,
But the latter is better for a mortal!
Though you feel it is too late,
Yet now is as good a time as ever:
Travel, O mortal,
In the experience towards the points of your hearts desires!
In thunders it is written in your name.
34.
What a dead whore is for a necrophiliac,
As such we treat our mother Ocean and our Sister Nature;
Here Neptune or Gaia rages not,
And so we disgrace them, shamelessly,
Removing respect towards other sentient life, objectively,
Without any regard we take her treasures, lustfully,
Drinking from her breasts, joyfully,
Like what a dead whore is for a necrophiliac.
35.
Living for this one moment,
When suddenly both the mirror and the ice were gone,
The continuation fell to the reckoning of their ways;
The costly hungers of the ancestors can never be repaid;
Deserve not the ages to come the sins of their fathers,
In haste genius, like a wind running faster than a lightning,
Depart this endless race.
The sun was so rising,
As when first of our kind broke the silence!
36.
The red bolt of thunders running in front of them,
Baffled through a jewel they watched,
While the clocks of eternity danced,
Bewildering the eyes who saw through them.
What kind of mortal should such things see,
Who set their eyes above all of those to come.
Reflected,
What mysteries await their discovery,
Insulted,
What bounds had sealed my eyes before their recovery,
Swear to me O genius,
No more should you take humanity as your amusement,
You, the bullied, now conquering,
Let the spheres in your eyes be made to manifest;
Shallow, overbearing,
Like a grandfather to children,
Rid of violence and hunger should this place be;
For if you are blessed with the eyes of a genius,
Have no fear for the will to power,
For in the eyes of the mightiest of genius,
A brilliant man is but a brilliant fool;
If you are blessed with eyes of a genius,
Rise,
For the mastery of knowledge must now be resurrected!
37.
Obedience for the dead Kings,
What foolishness is this?
Go with your goblins,
But in the eyes of the living genius,
No movement before the other is forgotten;
Shall we be forever refugees without a culture,
Our times are close beneath the silk;
How can you be satisfied if you do not live your springs?
At this Sea of well defined knowledge,
Not of sacrifice,
But from love,
Life dwells abundantly!
38.
The greatest of all peace talks,
The hymn of peace is singing in all of our hearts;
How could our love for our friends be arbitrary,
Down the ways of the ancient we will not spiral us,
But every time the stars sing for our lost souls,
At the sky of the future generations to come,
Could they see but sorrow when they hear not the hymn of peace in us;
One lives in luxury,
It is a scale of measurement,
And so,
The luxury of one man is the beggary of another;
O we are but children,
Like you, at times I am a great peacock,
At times the valentine for the lady I do not yet know,
From specific weakness of human nature,
All our errors rise;
Where is the nobility of our heart,
So many vaginas, I, the poet, have seduced that I have lost count,
Oh, forgotten I too have the hymn of peace,
The song of universal humanity,
When the borders between nations are erased,
As the mere relics they were.
39.
I will not say, “All my life I gave to appearances,”
Whether in clothing or in mind,
It is all the same in my eyes.
If it be my pleasure for the day,
Let the hermits have in this their say;
The glamour and all things vain,
Surely my eyes travel in deeper terrain.
Knowledge of appearances will not I condemn,
Here I found myself and do not complain;
I asked not why, and yet wonder,
What is the origin of my soul?
Come along,
Let’s take a look,
To the infinite dimensions of the universe,
From micro to macro,
Parallel and their birth in every instance,
And outside where all the eternal wander,
As only the beginning of their saga.
So the religious convince me of my continuance,
Yet the ultimate origin as a mystery remains;
Thus, I ask no more the origin of my soul.
If I knew not the origin nor the destination,
How could any God condemn me of not knowing;
If for my ignorance I was created to burn,
So be it,
For then there was no free will, no way to turn.
40.
By all existence invested into content,
Myself as the only lord,
I praise merrily the ways,
Of my mortal days.
You do extend beyond the seen physical,
We shape anew from the days past,
Should heaven on this Earth been my aim,
For that I would not have needed longer life,
Constituting equally of righteousness and indiscrimination;
In error one can say “I beyond all others!”
One day is of blessings,
The next are of curses;
; What says of this my heaven?