The pacifist of liturgies fallen like rain
Upon a world that cannot resist
Its thunderous rain
What an atrocity to behold from the past
To the present as darkness is no salvation
If so, a Descartian Logic is pristine in their
From before, depraved minds, does not
Justify an enslavement
And Deconstruction of free will
No man should carry the haughtiness
That puts himself on a pulpit throne where
They decimate the beast for being unjust
Or an instigator of cruel deeds
No man should talk directly to a god
That has its own creation within the walls of
The one that says he possesses it
This is so the sheer folly of mankind
Talk about oneself in the past tense is the Ultimate
Reduction of the necessary
Expansion of the true self
And therefore to abide to molded measurements
Is to walk backwards with both hands and eyes
Incapable to act
As I do know, as certain as death is unavoidable
The means to ones unbuilt castle
Is where the mind and the thought points forward
And thus the hunter looks ahead
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