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The worlds dream.

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posted on Aug, 21 2013 @ 01:37 AM
A world dreaming, as it rests in its safe and favorite place, does lie dreading its waking moments in the light of another day. The night as rewarding as to child in a swing as it sways. The world lies dormant in joys of limitless thought at play.

Mankind in the morning, but mortal and meak next to the glory of the rising sun. The winds of storms and fall of rain must mankind constantly consider when going about his way. The rise of dark waters and the flood of death does rush into our minds and our flesh, this must we always know.

To drown out our divine in a sea of the mundane, the river of life makes limp our lives and forces us along, against the currents force and its careless waves.

Then like always, when all is lost and no more can give way, we surrender to our exhaustion and fall deep into the pit of our deaths escape. We rest our heads and close our souls portal to the horrors of our reality. Walking eagerly is then our spirit into the void between worlds and away from all calamity.

Our mind takes the form of the formless and soars high never to fall. The center of our being touches God and all is known to all. We flow like the wind, bend space to our will and the sails of time are always filled on our journey across the vast oceans of mysteries now revealed.

The warrior finds his nemesis and his battle is then fulfilled. The servant defines his service to his lord and his purpose is made clear to his soul. The devil makes his mischief and the beast takes his wild kill.

Everyone is resting, but resting like the waiting harvest of their spirits toil, in the soil of their day they have tilled.

What good men have forgotten in their day is made hazy and lost to them, but not to their sleep. It gives way to their demons and angels to awaken them from their slumber, or their dreams to keep. What evil men have remembered is made solid and like chains to them is weight, chains that do anchor them in hatred and only fear of their death for them awaits.

All mortal men transforming, as their minds mold upon them forging, their spirits will evolving into what they chose for them to be. All souls now rising to Gods face kissing, their eyes now blessing the world below to see. Their way is but a channel of pure waters flowing, into the dessert of hearts growing, like flowers in scorching heat.

The imagination of life is showing, that our mind in dreams is always, but a mirror of ourselves to see. What we witness through our windows, when our eyes are open soulless, that when closed we are but foraging through the forest beyond the door to infinity.

Like wild animals we do scurry under the sun shining and moon glowing, in fear of what we are always learning, of the universe unfolding when our eye of eyes doth see.

We are but sights witnessed, a grace of God existent, for the self to conquer and be, what reality we choose to see.

edit on 21-8-2013 by tadaman because: (no reason given)

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