This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
Copyrighted © 2009 Dante Newton
The passage mills about But it is hardly seen. Cliché or rare, It is always there. To give results Making it seen. By recondite eyes That moves from the womb to the world That unlocks the gate to the milieu That discern everything preternatural.
Eyes are not rectilinear They can move flexibly, Just like a bee with vigorous peregrinations.
Eyes are not just visions, They can understand the unseen Based on real appearance reflecting Just like the pigeon.
Without parley the door is always there to open Without anything forceful you can move Like a prisoner who sinned and forgiven Lies, larceny, greed and all Are thrown out of the door And never will they return Just like the virtuous God.
Morphed into heaven, With peace and light The door the catalyst And everything meets Where protection and peril Where happiness and sadness Where contrition or ungodliness Come as a communication hub.
Out of the door of death, The Soul went out…
Out of the door of birth, The Soul went in…