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Lost among the tribes of lore,
seeking beauty, truths of light;
deeper ever I explore,
peircing mind through shades of night.
Hope! A scent I trail in eves
of passions embered, coals grow cold.
Seeking twelve within the sixteen
seasons passing, worlds evolved.
Brothers gone amidst the lands
of planets watered aeons ago.
Diamond tears bead in a strand;
deadly noxious, spelled our homes.
Torn, a veil! Holy sounding
tone creating worlds drawn nigh.
Savior lifted to defeat within the heart
which lacks it's mind!!
Thorough braided wonder lookers;
(neuro-scenic borne of intent)
as our sciences birth more demons;
confusion reigns amongst those meant.
"Victim never eaten freely!"
cries a planet filled by these.
Seemingly, doom accepted as nature
except for the lackluster busting thier knees!
Do we plunder higher kingdoms
for a purpose erotic,
as the foolish mind of Freud;
seeming silly, must suspect?
Also shall we become the dwellers
with our brothers, (chauvinist),
on the ethers of the bodies
breathing sunlight near to us?
Oh, the joy of exploration
in a strand of instant life!
Golden, veiled, unknowable mystery
I call to cast you from the heights!
Only Olorun, the solar
exploding enlightenment,
truly knows the moment passing
is or isn't actually death.
Fly, my brother iccharus
against the sexual baphomet;
undivided as an equal
pregnant with obnoxiousness!
We the holders of a melody
inquire of our strings
when in space and time are we
where god is us or everything.
Note a two-fold message
see the bodies as our future homes,
as the words creating problems
possibly repent the tones.
We are vessels for ourselves
in training grounds well surrounded
as trouble comes if tipped too far
the deck must become flooded again.
Real, and not a game of idle
careless timing by our souls,
are these left of conciousness.
Our deaths may happen here, or not at all.

"If the America people ever allow private banks to control the issuance of their currencies, first by inflation and then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of all their prosperity until their children will wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered." ~Thomas Jefforson

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The following comments are for "Hope"
by roach

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