Shine, My wasted shadow shine.

Rage, a sage, divine grace and says it over
time, a mime, that fights a lie and destroys a die
Cast in a ruby, shadowed by red, spent in a time of futility
That comes back to haunt the hand that wasted it.
What waits for me is an honour, a donor in my need
From the pain of the world being evil's seed.

I was born to be built upon, used as a block, to shock
inaction into action, a contraption, that fought to provoke a reaction.
To storm the world with a power so fierce it brought you to your knees,
so please, let me be delivered from this hearse
so i can curse my fate , and leave no room for debate.
And hate the same hate that made me a date with the pain that has met my fate.

A hollow filled with trouble, a body bent double.
The shadow of an image formed by a bubble, rising in boiling water
Like some Hubble, which nibbles through the universe in search
for worse men than those that formed it to lurch in silent trepidition
awaiting signs of something that fuels this fire, high up in the spire
of desire, a liar born to submit to a mire of thought and ego.

Like it or not, this world is here to stay and say
what a shame it seems to spend everyday, broken and unused like an arrow that remains in destiny's quire and shivers for its time to come,
but when its the last in the bower the essence divides a thought process
that follows no feeling of mine, the bow shoots true but the arrow
snaps in two. And my life is caught in an unending strife.

But I'm here to fight, what's right is right, whats mine is might and
into the black night, there shines an unlikely light, like a serpents delight
like an amorphous blight, like a cobra poised to strike with venom in its bite.
A kite in the sky with its shadow on the ground, like a spectrum in the dark on an unholy mound.

Logical behaviour seems so easy, but don't you go get queasy.
When Morpheus lays you down, and Diosynous gives you wine after wine
Till you're no more mine, but a shadow of mine, a shadow of a mind.
That refuses to shine, even in the place of the shadow of mine that shines.

Will I live to regret the day i was born, or will my body be torn?
Will I lie wasted, or will my death be hasted. Lets face it,
its basic, a principle of knowledge which wants someone to taste it.
Let me live my life, and let that life on which i based it,
Take my hand and let my shadow be wasted,
Bring this fire of mine, to the edge of time
and salute my spirit for shadow gone, it is my turn to shine.

Deliria

The burnt ashes of a man's victory
Bring to him his greatest fall
For those who find this contradictory,
May be burning most of all.

A man's fantasies, a man's dreams
Go up in flames and burn brightly
Sometimes darkness comes in reams
And forces him to die nightly.

But a shadow has naught, no fear
Of laughter, joy and frivolous strife
To man as common as drinking beer
And leading a hollow, sorry empty life.

Since birth begotten, it is our fate
To fight for nirvana and when accorded
To linger draw breath and hesitate
Like over a death penalty he lorded.

Our life is a series of meaningless lies
Crippling sorrows, fragile props
Murky, disorderly, demonly flies
That buzz about our own dead corpse.

And when death comes we fight that too
Discontent with everything, in dark gloom
Suspicious even of being let through
Into God's arms to once again bloom