angliterario

My heart burst out for want of words to express the malady that surrounds my existence. The aura of false flesh surrounds me. Like a cloak that cannot be lifted. For dust has settled and will not be dissuaded. From engulfing my cobwebbed thoughts and crumbling intellect. Wisdom will cry out but will not be heard. For the doors have been closed and the keys swallowed by the eyes. My mouth will cry but the meaning has been plugged in the ears. I have no more intellect. It's river drowned in self-pity. Doubts have clotted the blood of knowledge. My fingers are numbed from scratching words. But the words have deserted me. And this vessel is empty.

There was once a man, He built his dreams on the rocks. He thought that they could stand As long as he wants them to Because they're build upon the rocks. And so layer after layer, And year after year He toiled. Like there's no tomorrow And existed for his dreams Because they'll all stand forever on the rocks. Years passed and his dreams were steadfast. They neither wobbled nor did they sway. But the man grew weary And he stopped to look around, Upon everything he has created on the rocks. He saw everything around him, Remained strong and beautiful. "The dreams shall outlive me," he said, "I have accomplished what I have set out to do." But still, he grew more pensive upon the rocks. More years have passed and the man has aged. He is greyed and his sinews tired of toiling. And through his dimming eyes He saw what he failed to see While he was on top, building upon the rocks. For lo! He has clothed his dreams In fine stones and solid timber But he forgot ...