The hate of this world,
A wise man is killed;
An allegory,
And like the elements of this world.
The hidden things of honesty and dishonesty,
But are they writers? !
So am i also;
For the stories of this world are too many to write about.
Are they artists?
So am i;
Are they Core-Maths teachers?
So am i;
Are they philosophers?
So am i;
Are they travellers?
So am i;
Are they poets?
So am i;
Are they innovators?
So am i;
Are they saints?
So am i;
And like a veil taken away,
With gritted teeth in range.
Endless genealogies,
Out of envy with fable minds;
And like old wives’ fables and the old men in town,
But a light shone in the prison room.
The stories of this world are too many to write about,
With empty schemes and the reward of iniquity;
But i need seven men of honest reputation,
And like my life in the cave of love.
Light out of darkness and hope out of sadness,
Try to dream big always!
For this world is engraved in letters on stones,
And i am as you are over there.