He who built the engine has to
Break it apart and be hard on it:
And on the hands that moulded it.
The greatest wisdom is self-knowledge.
Maybe every container has to ask
Self-million questions,
Just to get to know of paws which went
astray.
Why there are dormant and active volcanoes?
The answer lies there.
Tornadoes know of the harm they make
Still they continue with their journey.
Morbid souls chose to shear off the
nefarious tourney.
At times we are balloons bursting:
Enough air but kept depths multiply
exponentially
Until we burst.
We are beings of million portions.
These other portions we just bury
Because we do not know we
Are holding daggers to them.
Or are we cherubic?
To tear self is the greatest thing.
Do it but do not slay integrity.
Self-examination-a rite of honesty.
Maybe you did not know;
Maybe you can fly without wings:
The hands are not a hoe
But can work as the same tool.
Be a bull, it will not sever your existence
But rather stamp it further.
Browse within and regurgitate the bad.
Search and swallow inspiring herbs.
