Something real, better not to steal,
Try and feel the cutting steel,
Swords as words, the blade can kill,
Yet can also still the sharpening appeals,
Who is driving your wheel? Inside you reveal,
And unseal what mystery is as unreal,
Opening a moment of the empyreal,
A machine spinning us in music’s field,
Songs wrote and shaped on a potter’s wheel,
Always forming to the artist’s ordeal.
Shaping words as an alphabet,
Swords are sharp instruments,
Feeling music like a testament,
Words are living elements,
In the first bar of feeling this,
Candles light the way in darkness,
Even in the dark abyss, dream’s of Genesis,
Light revealing the mysterious, to be exist,
Yet words evolved like as providence,
A miracle of life a giving gift,
Realer and realer is the soul within the spiritus,
Words shape images like hieroglyphics,
Spiritually invisible, passed adept initiate,
Perfect Master of the Matrix.
Shaping words as an alphabet,
Swords are sharp instruments,
Feeling music like a testament,
Words are living elements,
Metemphysics 