Un-awakened words...

Better left unburdened..

Idols need no praise...

For the soil makes the guideline.


The labels are delusions,

Made by snarky, petite people,

And the soil begins to form,

A derisive chant of magis:

"Harrow minds,

For sickened thoughts,

Let the soil begin anew,

Let the thoughts plunder like streams,

Of connected.. melodies..."


The burden's set aflame,

In a new form of ambition,

Men just leave it purposely,

And flee on a novel road.