woRld of MINE (mEn)

the WORLD of thee,
cannot be seen,
by thy eyes or giant size.
swear in my sword,
and i will divulge the word;
move the curtain of the universe,
and i would showcase.
"rest, rest, perturbed spirit." —hamlet, william shakespeare—
(- if you can’t keep a secret - don’t read! -)
the blue moon is my armour,
the burning sun is my sword,
the shining stars are my crown,
their death is my mourn.
i am Hercules on my world,
Lancelot on gesture,
their love were the key,
to their fleeing glory.
i saw the wooden horse of Troy,
Palla’s Athena’s toy;
the huntress of the silver bow, Diana,
in her chariot passed my way,
and the ever persevering Atlas is just
some walks away.
lion, tiger, and lynx are nothing,
but just plain kittens,
and you said that you are afraid of them,
trust me when i say that Confucius had a point
when he said that:
"gems cannot be polished without friction,
nor men without trials."
the comets are my brush,
saturn’s ring is my paint,
the universe is my paper,
and meteors are my eraser.
i had a quill which write in its own,
together with some parchments,
it had outseated many thrones.
i am afraid of me,
ghostly creepy,
my own curse,
is hitting me out of the course.
i’m alive - not dead,
but the emptiness stayed,
in my heart,
it’s killing me bit by bit.
the Lord made me like his own flesh,
breath in me thy life,
and i can picture angels surround me,
although they seem blurred.
my world is dimmed,
sunlight running, fled,
how lonely my world is thee.
and then you think it’s a beauty?
my world is in wild,
high and blind,
it’s colors were covered
with pain and vain.
i hate to be alone,
but it is done.
ther’s nothing left,
but to uncever the thruth,
YESTERDAY, I WAS BORN,
TODAY, I WILL GROW,
TOMORROW, I WILL FLY,
TO THE PLACE I HAVE NEVER KNOWN.