GreyWanderer

Oy!

darkened throne, discerning eye, cruel, impassionate,
tempered, cool unabashedness, cool indifference

mighty rulers commanding with an iron fist

who is the lord to us, those who walk amongst creation;
cast our hands up, palms outfacing, bow our heads down as
we feel the silent rapture,
our souls sing to make music as we seek acceptance,
ungoverned by our own laws to act as we please in our rite
of acceptance and reconciliation.

the day passes with each hour as I constantly grope for any
last thread of humanity on this icy cold planet, barren of
life, barren of any of the teachings taught by those who
were spoken to from a divine providence

the outcasted one may sit upon his fiery throne, devilishly
conniving his plan or two to quicken our descent into his
hell, but it is i who am one, and therefore cannot be
touched

be one then, and forever face your fears or your foes with
a gladdened heart and a veiled consilience.