Libre Magazine

Becoming a dervish whirling in a blissful peaceful trance is what I sought, what I sought
In a web of never-ending superficial zeals am I caught, am I caught

To make both sides lose a never-ending war isn’t why we fought, why we fought
Need not for this ‘ache-medal incised beneath the chest’ we got, we got

So after all the quests, we roam in a devilish circle, the mal-contentment circle
Calling it a miracle; thinking it would be blissful, it would be blissful

All these needs and wants of this breed and creed, this breed and creed
How to kill this seed and how not to feed our greed, feed our greed?

When stuck in a circle, it doesn’t matter if you succeed, if you succeed
This kneeled fast speed and fake glory-bleed - doesn’t it make you feel emptied, feel emptied?

Such a sham but agonizing state… how do you narrate, just how could you narrate?
When, like an octopus around your neck, the successes suffocate, the successes suffocate

In such a shaby rush, there are no right ways, there are no wrong ways
Like a dancing, loving blessing… the trap just sways, the trap just sways

All those goals making you a slave to this dark hole, this dark hole
Let’s leave all this cajole, set on fire thy false soul, thy false soul

Those ache-medals we gave each other, burn them all with no remorse, with no remorse
Disowning these hurdles, fly away from this course, fly above this course

For, who knows… from the rusted coffins of this utter gloom, this utter gloom
Melancholic phoenix of true joy may bloom, serene joy may bloom