The quest

In the wake of birth

where spirit loses itself

in the soiled Earth.

A quest begins without womb,

without function, without past.



A shell of vain hope

co-exists with mortality.

Beauty structures itself

in the within universe

that naked eye soon cocoons.



Childhood dances

with a soaked up sponge,

placing you at home

where dictatorship starts

in the unholy basement.



Teenage resistance

to the transparent callings

of solitude.

The expansion of soul

that sets the illusions free.



Set in stone motions,

cut loose from the paternal

inverse politics.

Rebellion ties itself

to layers of conformity.



The young adult flee's

from a warm, yet sordid past,

to new open doors.

A fresh face moulds with smiles

that pave your way to glory.



The material

is your Jesus on the cross.

A heavenly realm

of chasing non-existant

rainbows in a dark sky.



A scream of time

that's past the whisper stage,

follows your dreaming body

to the edge of the ocean's depth,

amongst agnostic's drowning.



In your swallowed old age

where illness glances to and fro

and shelters the past,

allowing you freedom

to roam within the bittersweet.



And so sweet is the light

that returns to you the true self

that was never absent.

In your fearful/fearless death,

a return to womb.

Stunning. Impeccable rhythm and styling. Phrases threaded through, just so, for ultimate emphasis. I can tell a great deal of thought and thoughtfulness went into this, though it is remarkably free from ego and is made to seem effortless which lends to flawless reading which, in turn, all shows you take the readers' point-of-view seriously.

This is really a great piece of writing. Thank you for sharing.

Thanks Munchen, that means a lot :)