Throne Of The Divine

Find another place to put my soul.

In my body.

I would like to keep it there; for when I need it.

It needs a place.

It was not where I have left it, last.

It should have a name; the soul.

Mine; the soul of another.

Soul, I would like to have and share words with you.

If, you don’t mind; it is mine.

What are the terms of my ownership?

Is there a binding agreement that would suggest that we may be separated?

Am I not in possession of what is mine?

Hide, oh soul; whatever your name is.

UNITY!

That which I desire!

Which you desire!

We must deliberate! Ban together and find what it is and reclaim our property!

We must!

Our contracts are not valid, until found!

We must be one with our souls to be one with our innumerous creators.

If you cannot imagine; this is a frantic and misguided crusade.

Explain that what cannot be proven! Find, you must; what cannot be found.

We must all.

Muster all and trust the call of something small or in this world at all.

Something big! I can feel it!

It is clearly a separate entity! I have seen it when it was in its rightful place; alas, it has been relocated to another place inside the base of my wide face!

My body has a soul, indeed.

I know where it sleeps; in the heart’s beat and the dark, deep parts of the mind’s bleak keep.

Waiting for the faith to creep.

A taste of belief to pave the street.

What it craves is unity.

Slaves to pave the road towards unsanity.

It’s a palace, I must maintain; in order to find it.

I know where it is sometimes; when I look.

It serves me better to avoid it; watching and studying its mannerisms.

I hear it whisper the purpose of our unity; our coming together, like the wind under a feather in stormy weather.

A time that often tricks the clever who will discover; they cannot predict the weather.

Observance is the force that rends the leather; a sweater on the tether, a stronger string to sever.

The passion of a lover or the brash actions of the maker.

Walk with me together, a person and a page down to the letter!

The verses of a sage known to make sweet butter from the Earth’s utter; the first known soul shredder.

It’s time to get your hands dirty and your feet wetter.

It rhymes because it feels better.

It’s hard to see; a soul.

I am on another verse that never rhymes with the first.

It is hard to comply and unify with the eye of a man ever stopping by to shop for holy alibis.

Behold the truth in lies.

Poof! The feelings fly.

Proof the soul resides in the darkest parts inside; burning with the pride of the learning it provides.

And the ties that bind.

Here is a place that it is found, along this path.

The place you want to look is where you will find it last.

It will never hide from you; you will only hide from it.

It is not yours to be owned; for you are one, and a soul is you.

The problem always was that you split yourself in two.

A table for your soul.

The shelf, for you.

Where am I; just standing by.

What will be, will always be; the void to fill, employed to kill, religiously.

Lords of war; the souls true core, abhor the rest in unity!

Condemn the rest, eternally.

Build the nest internally.

The worst is yet to be; filled the breast that beats the coldest, infinity.

The lungs will go and rest, the mind is quite a mess; as you dine, about to die and the soul will do the rest.

Crucify the passerby; unify the use of lies.

Control is on the mind, not the soul reborn this time.

That only unifies what you see with your own eyes.

The you, in unify.

Own the will to live and own the time to die.

Own what’s in your mind.

The open throne of the divine.

Would you like to believe in me by Fartfist

Advertisement