As the moon faces me
Watching in its intensity
Zephyrus darkness embraces me
Scoffing with its propensity
Bitter cold displaces me
I’m coughing phlegmatic entities
An earthen footstep retraces me
Stopping with its density
Alone I’m not, aware I ought
To be, to see, to know, to believe
For all the times I internally fought
And reached a point I no longer can leave
Sufficient, enough
Is He for me, when two are true, He makes three
When the going gets rough
Put your trust in the One who will never abandon thee
Try as you might, to cry for your plight
Nothing will be possible unless it’s willed
By the One who bestowed upon you the sight
That envisions the life that is proportioned with skill
Regret, remorse, repentance, reformation
Are said to be the compositions to forgiveness
But how will that be possible if the very information
Necessary to be relieved is lightened of its stiffness?
Firm in the heart, sharp in the mind
Search for certainty deep within
Bestowed by the start, inspired by divine
Decree that doesn’t waver to whims of your sins
In other words the words you splurge
Out when crying in regret of your wrongs
When holding your hands up in search
Of forgiveness is not unheard, it’s what belongs
To the throes of time, the spans of space
Regardless of what you or I say, think, or believe
From the cellular formation of life to the details of a face
All is according to an already set Divine Decree
No matter what happens
No matter what happened
As a matter of fact it happens
Because of what is meant to last in
The timelessness of beyond
A place where there is no limit
Where dreams, happiness, and ever-long
Beauty is found along with spouses of such and timid
Glances from such gracious eyes of purity
Human imagination can feign manifest
The understanding a reward dearer to me
Than everything in this life, from East to West.
Sunrises, sunsets, world begotten, world behest,
By the One who provides all in this world and the next
So despair not of His mercy, lest
You fall into disbelief of the ultimate quest
Of life, of time, of reality, of rhyme
Read in the chosen of languages
In the most beautiful book, sublime
Written from the messenger’s words taken bit by bit
And transferred to leaves that relieve the gleam of the dream
Described in it with such wit such merit it hits
The heart from start to finish from life to death which seems
Worthwhile when it beguiles you and suddenly quits
When you least expect it to, slipping from you like moldy mildew
Superficial and rotten and by product of beyond
And remember all the times the fruits of this life withdrew
When you thought that the things you loved would never be gone
But deceptive indeed is all that we plead
For in this world, when all that we need
Is in a place where the tears we cry and the blood we bleed
Will never see the light that will forever be freed
From the uncertainty of darkness, the illness of heart
Where thoughts are corrupt and feelings are rash
So heed Heaven’s hearkens, which one day will cleave apart
For fear of the One who can bring anything in and out in a flash
Like the one that started the Universe
Or so to be claimed as the owner
When clarity can be contrived from reading a simple verse
Of a book that took and shook truth into the loner
In the middle of the night, in fright, he cries not of plight
But of fear of his Master and his own regrets
That perhaps he hasn’t met the requirements to delight
The Most Merciful one who always, always pardons and lets
You off regardless of what you do
As long as you turn to repentance
He will rush to you
And eventually admit you to the entrance
Of gardens beneath which rivers flow
Serene, pristine, supernal, eternal
Graced by One who will simply bestow
It to you because you were patient and avoided the infernal
Things of this world, things of the worst
Things that seem so pleasant and easy at first
But later cause pain of an unquenchable thirst
In this life and the next, so in those things be not immersed
For a day awaits us closer than thought
Where a child will flee from his mother
In panic and refuge will be sought
But no one will look to another
Because towards the great calamity they will be fixated
And the sun will be so close
That perspiration will drown and punishment will not be elated
Whilst the land will be flattened from coast to coast
Arising from the graves bodies will stand erect
It will be as if the time of this life was but an afternoon
What use will it be then to recollect
When my gaze will no longer be towards the moon?
Not the moon matters
Not the sunny sky of June matters
Not the time of this life of an afternoon matters
If it is preferred by the latter
So as I notice the moon’s brilliant gaze
And I return to take my own path and ways
I now know that nothing here stays
But turn to your Lord in hope, in fear, and in praise.
-by Zelus