Stories about rebirth

The cognisant state

Through the looking glass Narcissus explores, All the workings of one’s own soul, A world enamoured with ruby, sapphire and gold. The eternal wound of the first broken soul, The tale of horses, sons, women and gold. A day without forgiveness, For the farmer’s daughter, A day without compassion, For the butchers son, All in the name of me, I and myself. Alas! Allah! Please forgive me. Until twelve past four. In the shadow of the patriarch, They cry for redemption, They cry for remorse, Justify the common sin, Oh Lord! The times clutch our soul! His eyes perceptively blinded, Until twelve past four. Such is he cursed with his dark materials, Immortalisation so easily shunned, From the hearts of ...

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