Ariya
04-14-2008, 11:51 PM
Master…
Your unloved wish is but
Unholy raw passion,
A hardhearted form of salvation,
In which I have yet to understand
My Master lives dreary,
Drunken with shrouded desires
That a dank rose like I,
Your devotee, cannot,
Yet, be situated with
Reach out, my adored one,
For I am not yet what my
Master can be content to
But it is I,
Your silent overseer,
Who shall heal you,
From your fruitless sleep
From your powerless struggle,
For that world that is not there,
Where blooms not
One lone rose,
And memoirs of
A fervent servant…
Who's soul at least
A sinister solace had
Incarcerated your taken heart
Your unloved wish is but
Unholy raw passion,
A hardhearted form of salvation,
In which I have yet to understand
My Master lives dreary,
Drunken with shrouded desires
That a dank rose like I,
Your devotee, cannot,
Yet, be situated with
Reach out, my adored one,
For I am not yet what my
Master can be content to
But it is I,
Your silent overseer,
Who shall heal you,
From your fruitless sleep
From your powerless struggle,
For that world that is not there,
Where blooms not
One lone rose,
And memoirs of
A fervent servant…
Who's soul at least
A sinister solace had
Incarcerated your taken heart