Religion. Who to Believe.

What do you choose to believe?

How do you tell between truths and lies?

Many are the revelations of time and God. Just as many though are the fake prophecies of His creations. Of the two, which do you choose to believe?

Some of us trust only what our eyes see. Others are easily impressed by words. Who do you choose to listen to? What do you believe?

Of a truth it is that man is constantly exposed to truths and lies alike. By what do we judge the nature of a truth? The perceived nature of the world we live in ripples in silent change. Moving to and fro in the passing days and nights leaves us impressed in many ways. How do you walk a straight path upon a road riddled with so many junctions?

Always do we find reasons to question all that we see, hear and feel. Thus we fall back on other means than the heart of hearts to judge.

Do we truly know deep down inside? Is the truth clear to us?

The revelations we see, we doubt. And we seek other means of finding the truths of creation. Will we find it after a time or are we meant to forever be lost?

"Turn to guidance" says some of us.

"What guidance?" ask others.

In God I chose to believe. In the Almighty Creator I rest my trust. Doubt not have I in His revellations for no matter what questions I have, only He is the All-Knowing and All-Seeing. Only He holds the truth of all truths.

How do you tell a lie from a truth? God alone knows.

Just You

Filtering through
Just filtering through
Every moment that passes
Which leaves me without you
Without you

Holding on
Barely holding
Feeling my grip
Slowly breaking away
Breaking

Screaming your name
No one else but you
All that I hear
Is you
Nobody but you

Making no sense
None of this makes sense
It hurts to think of you
But it's all I do
All I'll ever do

Wanting to stop
Trying to stop
Yet here I am
Loving you
Still

Fragmented
Broken and fragmented
The day you left
I died
Shattered

Thoughts no longer correlate
All other emotions feel fake
All that's real is love
For you
Just for you

Burnt away
To smoking embers
In smouldering dreams
My sanity slipping
Slowly slipping

Who am I
What
Answers I can't find
Me a mere shadow
You left behind

I want you
Need you
I won't force you
Only beg you
Please

On my knees
I am nobody
Nothing
Without you
Here without you

Charred and brackened
Cluelessly dead
Without your light
My world's a poisonous black
Poisonous black

Now I walk
I trudge
Lost and alone
With no way back
Stumbling

Time passing
Slowly going
And all I can do
Is just filter the memories
Leaving nothing but you

Just You...

Growth

Age, the cradle of wisdom

Experience, the mother of compassion.

Love, the source of humanity

Hate, the father of destruction.

As age creeps up upon a man, and experience comes to his side to be his best friend, love will grow or hate may consume.

The choice between the two, is entirely in his hands.

What will he choose to end with?
That understanding may his guidance be.
And in comprehending peace shall find.
In written deeds a story left behind.

White Dove

Lovely white dove
Purity incarnate
Fluttering above
Upon wings of grace

For you the heavens
Made your cage
Your wishes given
No askance too great

A beautiful soul
Lurks in your eyes
Warmed by the hold
Of your enrapturing smiles

Untested by time
Your immortal grace
The beauty sublime
Of a thousand praise

Innocence you hold
Gripped by your shell
That fragile gold
Of a powerful spell

Threatened by darkness
Weak by nature
Yet that very weakness
Becomes your allure

Pretty white dove
Sampling of purity
Nought for you but love
Do I have to give

The sadness in your eyes
Reflected in tears
The love in your sighs
That consumes all fears

Devotion you have
Wrought by your beauty
An addictive salve
Of skin upon skin

For your every touch
And your gentility
My life would I vouch
Till the end of eternity

Remain you untainted
In a world of grey
Forever protected
From mankind's spray

If ever you're tarnished
Or your whiteness fade
Tied by the leash
Of humanity's fate

Here still I stand
For you I wait
Holding out my hand
To you behind this gate

I pray such not
For you my dove
Stay you forever uncaught
Aflutter in your grove

Forgotten

Death. A sacred rite or a mere passage; A rebirth or a final stage; The closing of a book or simply turning of another page.

It has always fascinated us. Mystical yet natural. Feared and inevitable. A frightening prospect yet truly a blessing in disguise.

The most clear end that each and every person will undoubtedly face and yet, most easily forgotten in the coming days.

Remember it.