lost soul 7
the sixth sense
I felt the retrogation surging to the fall
a mystic veheme utters the first human sound
the wisdom light flickered and adrifted
fading in the sea of no indication
when the first mitochondria awoke inside me
firing up his energy into his own dimensions
a call of sentry for the final seed of my universe
to coalesce to the inconceivable light
quite far to fathom by any doctrine of souls
to crawl back to the beginning of time of the smalls and standing still
when my benign universe began chasing its own destruction
after the final seeds had been planted
the enlightenment is perfect and cold
only the chit chatting of the mitochondrion - energy bursts - could be overheard
on their own chains of codons
cracking and talking of the same thing differently from the rest
like a host of dimensions insides me
the instants reborned themself to suffer without questioning why they came to exist
no recompensate to the utmost frightening hells of self discovering trip
to the inner most self without interuptions of desires
the dictations of lies from the truth were unbearable
no one receded
no one cared for
the bad intentions of karma
without the stains nor hopes
just mere pains harvesting and shackling the thirsty hearts
of my breast freed from my sickness of desires
without figurines dancing on my fingers
just heap of pains of the sultry past
just like a mechanical humania who just realizes that he had souls
by crying his first tear drops over his memories
