Chants from other side of the Moon #6

Being trembles in heavenly tremors
of possibility, its eyes are filled with
clarity of thousand rivers which
gaze at Sky, drinking dew of Ever-being

Flowers have grown in tapestry of time,
but Man is yet to blossom

There is a shard in his soul, a remnant of
great Ocean, an innate river of Being, which
Man must release

But Man is tormented, he dreams of great
cities made of bronze-clay longing for
silhouettes made of shapeless bubbles whom
he titles dreams, these are his greatest shackles
for Man’s only freedom is to reach Being

Pain of Man is great, his days are countless
lives of insects reclaiming very scent of Earth,
they are bound to win in their flaws, Man
fails not knowing who he is

Countless sagas have been woven
on steep rocks of senses, and miracles
of deep waters have left Man,
for Man it is only apt to trust his
fingers, Art is where King Chandra

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Michael of Moon

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