To write, to gain some consolation and wipe away sadness, try to discern this unfathomable life with mystic cerebration, to arise sanity in a genuine revolution versus the regular methods of cogitating, and look to this creation from high acme of humanity; This writing is necessary to give you some satisfaction and let happiness find a path to your doorstep, or at least try to forget this life by traveling through the worlds of inspiration and find a place under the sun of abstract ideas.

Seas of sadness

Sitting on the pain's stone And your griefs talk aloud Weeping and wailing alone Above you a sorrow's cloud Hard to gain your aim Yourself only you blame You became the illusion's victim Like a moth burned with the flame The life changed to surrealistic pigments Weird and vague figures With a thousand hope's fragments You can't find yours Sadness is a genuine gift You know it when you sift And also salt of life But augment make you drift

Lamentation of soul

When you try to smile Found your wound is deep And your griefs fill a mile From the inundation of weep And the lamentation rain Drowned your boat of dream Doused your aspiration's fire Left you wait in vain And the wind of sorrow Swift in the illusion's land Hide the sign of bright tomorrow Versus you ability to understand So halt here and hark To the nightingale in dark Stir your soul and show you Purification tune of lark

Cry in annihilation waste

Ye remain alone Meditate about ye unknown metaphysics As an infant thou mourn But what the use of lamentation Is the past will return Or that is an enamor in ideal Ye languages confused what to state Love is provisions for us; Hearts flew per wings of hankering Reached an isle There is sufferer swain upon He hath hoping vicinity Never revert like other folks; Gale of falsity Blowing in ye land of illusion Stirring ye dust of suspicion And ye Sol of truth vanished For weakness of nouses