Set within perfect measurements

Random it flickers about
until the logic has been proven
seems tragic to treat failures

A snitch caught between lips
feeling uncertain before throne
set to music and dancing

Life is cruel and short
Awareness seems limited
fuel for the masses

It goes unnoticed through motions
found deep within essence
personality hides depths

It is through the years
no one seems to notice it
yet it always was

Out here I reign supreme
king of a lowly people
don’t know my name

Your world is short and decaying
unregarded
immoveable my strength

Touching hours of destiny
set a course through the waves
will get to shore

Out here I am
the principle of consciousness
cannot be touched

About Emil Hjort

Writer, poet and mysticist.
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