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THE FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX BIRD


Surrounded  by a bunch of steady flowing waters

Existing without death but debt

A poor Atman of the gardeners 

Caged in the verdict so depth

Exhausted to transform existence

'Cause no language to place its conceptions to existence


Blended you embraced in the middle of the night

Emitting shadows of languid and listless

Mere ens with no might 

Children now echoes to your unworthiness

Owner of beautiful gold

Now stands with no atom of bold


But! Fear, the language of the mousy

In the field of great minds

Thousand years a useless tree grows

Its usefulness to eternity a day it registers

A mind that decamps the evening tide

Can always in greatness abide


Our cultures and society still present

Raises us on acme so fit

Creates a vacuum as a present

For our savoriness to reach no limit

Language are the times we exist

The minds greatest instrument


Tiredness a phoenix bird never gets

Though its corporeality regenerates

Pushes, life it begets

construing what life presents


Stand! Stand! Push on comrade

Though embodied with the portals clay

Embrace the molded grenade

At last, it will result to pay

Life fights life to taste 

But only the vanquisher has a voucher to paste

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