(An inspiration from Percy Bysshe Shelley's Mutability)
Constructing this parallel world that links to my imagination.
A world where the soil reeks of blood and the skies roar with devastation.
I have made it so far into this world, that it no longer feels like a dream.
Nor does it feel like a nightmare. I'm sad, yet strangely happy to be here.
It seems as though death now shuns me, it mocks me and taunts me,
And still, there is no place left for me to turn to.
Can't look back or even take a moment to consider where my fatuous actions have led me.
And still not allow my feelings to express there true sentiments.
I have no shelter to cover me from the pouring rain.
No, not the blissful droplets of an angel's cry.
I talk about my tears that are filled with much agony
And its source, of which I cannot decipher a location.
Time, it seems, has nothing left to offer a penniless wanderer.
Am I merely a pawn of fate? Or am I more? Or less?
Tell me oh cruel heaven! Why am I blessed with such thoughts?
These thoughts that know no bounds or morality,
All it can ever speak of is the end for me.
I am left grieving on moments, at which life simply eradicates to nothingness.
It endlessly revives a turbulence in my heart and so it consumes my soul with darkness.
A silent "hush!", then dwells in my mind, and later a whisper echos in my ears,
Like a spider catching its prey after springing it with its silver glittered web,
And just like the fire engulfs its prey whole.
Is this gift of mortality man's greatest treasure?
Or is it a trial through which we must all suffer?
Just have a hope of viewing a world of tranquility.
Last but not least I ask you oh cruel faith
As I wander about this barren desert.
Can you think of no way to ease the thirst of this striving wanderer?
So as make my illusion of an oasis become pure and true.
Just like the water that pours down from the regal waterfall,
I too, wish my heart to be cleansed with purity as the water revitalizes the empty soul.
