I be lost when not be found
I see a ghost that hears no sound.
When all the mankind lay dead in their living,
It touches lost souls and spread its wing.
Tells me a fable that dusty cloak,
mesmerized; as it speaks I ask if it be a joke?
It tells me;
Its the farmer who harvests the wrong,
And survival is for the weak and not the strong.
You will fall short of glory,
and what fades will be your story.
If you choose to act on morality,
what you achieve is mortality.
Dilemma is when you listen,
when you see and your senses use you.
Dilemma isn’t when you cannot see
and you make use of your senses.
Choose to see beyond, wish to look above
the ghost merely resides within you.
It will ignite the brutal confusion,
Let you be found and the ghost be lost.