Before me, how can one truly think,
Critic or remember,
What is divine or true,
Is it till our minds fill blank and blue,
Covered in sores and bruises too,
That really the minds,
Is so divided and confused,
That it can no longer keep it hidden,
Thoughts so light and filled with vastness,
That we need to ampify its code,
Decode in relation to the world.
Is what one see real?
A depiction, fabrication,
Of what a mind wants me to see,
How can thy tell,
Whether thy is mad,
Or listening to thy’s lord word,
This vast empty space,
Can’t you leave me be,
Of course not because then,
This wouldn’t be before me.