I wear the mask for ease in my task
I am the faceless voice of words
Who visits them upon their ears
My face is not hidden from my fears
But rather from those who read the prose
There can be no point of reference
In my being
I am the unbiased part of the soul
Which can be a delivery of light
Or an executioner's helper
Upon the timeless clock
Perhaps by chance the axe man's block
In the rotation of motion
Upon its own axis in the commotion
Circumference gives way to depth
There is no measurement of time
In the limelight of visions of the inept
Quickly goes out the flame that flickers
Extinguished before curious eyes
Who procrastinate on which path to take
The words are right and most agreeable
Action speaks louder than words
To post a snipet and mention love
Because it is the fashionable way
What is true love but a steadfast
Following of a commandment
Not to cause insult to the Origins of Life
In any manner of which it may seem
It is either in variance or in harmony
There can be no in between
Murder is commited in many ways
Causing death to someone's mind
Theft can be done
In stealing away the dignity
In the infinity
Of all that exsists under the sun
Until the last day is done
Where there can be no more
Man has become his own whore
In a plain toned voice like that
Of something between a childs utter
It is a flat unemotional voice of reality
Without justification it must be accepted
There can be no bargains struck
For the voice is the smokeless fire
In an unending pyre
Of the fools smoke that rises
Unto all that comprises
Worship of false ideologies
Is as if in its place
We lend to our disgrace
In material possessions
Of which none have to do
With the beauty of the mind
Which many will never find
We are all cast upon the sea
To find the place to be
Give harken unto the written words
Carried in on the wings of birds
Laid upon the naked feet
Innocent as a lamb's bleat
Some will curse its exsistence
Others will indulge in resistance
Very few will ever accept
Yet all will be inept
Unless it is done under the sun
A revelation is laid upon the mind
All should hope to find
For the sacrifice made unto mankind
In the Origins of Life upon the earth
That came from another place
Which was laid upon the human race
What is done unto one another
Is to the disgrace of the original Mother
Yet it is not of late quite yet
There is still time to get
It can be done right in the righteous fight
Why bother with words upon deaf ears
Everyone hears just fine
But chooses to ignore the writing upon the walls
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
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