Balance rests within all things.
Power runs toward priests and kings.
Never working for their bread.
While their slaves are hardly fed.
Add much value to thy life,
Add much to thy core.
Use thy knowledge as a knife
And Add forever more.
Spare no time to be in pain.
All will heal in time.
Striving not for fame for
we are beautifully sublime.
Growing now in opulence.
More and more each day.
Knowledge begats affluence
As wealth now comes in waves..
Learn and learn
Your life is your
Thou who lauds be truest,
While that who measures soul in wealth
Be most ignorantly foolish.
Thy who tends thine spirit be the wealthiest of all.
He who grows his power has the mightiest of falls.
The game of life is not a game that we may play for keeps.
For when the time for death comes round we forfeit what we’ve earned.
All that we may bring is who we knew and what we learned.
Or So I’ve come to see, thus I’ll be ready when it’s time.
I’ve nothing to hold onto, No I’m not afraid to die.
Not that I am rushing my return unto The All
But life’s a lonely bore and I won’t miss much when death calls.
ergo It seems of late the best of times
Are when I’m not awake.
So never waking up
Sounds rather pleasant certain days.
I don’t want to come off as selfish for the live I’s given.
But I can’t shake the feeling that this world is carceram, prison!
I guess it didn’t always, but I’m not one to complain.
A bene placito life has done me well I’d say.
A contrario an emptiness does sit and swell inside
Since you’ve taken leave a mari duque as mare I sigh.
I have become a wretchful mess ab imo pectore
I know it’s all my fault I’m not sure whats left to say.
I am sorry ab intra still Absit invidia
I hope that you fair better than I have as of late.
Ad absurdum I march to see the madness in my fate
Even though I’ve pained I know it’s I that has done wrong.
This Actus Reus burdened long
and hence There were no words within his song
But the truth is that I’ve grown so shy Ive lost my voice.
Ad interim I guess I’ll pass the days with text in hand.
Often times it feels like I no longer have a choice.
I may have lost my track of where this poem had been going.
And I’m a bit uneasy of the feelings I’d been showing.
But my scattered brain it needs release from time to time,
It won’t always make sense but at least it always rhymes.
We find our Pedem Litterae where I may say goodbye,
To all that I have written as I send it toward the sky.