Poetry

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The Time,
Is nigh.

The Parent,
Of Exility.

The Power,
Of Humanity.

The Fleet,
Of Absurdity.

The Recruit,
Of Insults.

The Propaganda,
Of Paradoxical Solemn Vows.

When does it begin?

Where,
How,
Whom,
What.

And why?

Only He knows,
And so He quotes:

It is for Me alone to know,
And for all of you to find out.

How?

Love Me to the fullest.

Why?

Because My Heart,
Is pumping My Life in you.

We do not believe in You!

So be it.
But know this,
I am the One,
Whom you hold,
In derision.

I am the One,
Whom you portray,
As the Hanged Man,
I am the One,
Whom you acknowledge,
By another maker's Doom.

I am the One,
Whom you betrayed.

I am the One,
Whom arrives without delay.

I am the One,
Whom you will never know.

And yet,
I make it a possibility,
A potential scrutiny,
A reality of Pith.

Blame Him nought,
For our own self-destruction.

'Twas us in the first of the beginning,
'Twas us that failed to apprehend.

Still though,
Never once,
Did He give up.

Plainly evitable.

Take your pick.
Just two,
Are valid.

The rest,
Void and Vacuous.

- Schlemiel

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