Nikalaos

Thy blade damp with blood As it rains from the sky The life river, Empty to thought, Yet held within a child's mind, Thou hast eyes Full of eternal nothing, Yet possessing a substance of light, Which gains while distance of the heart Loses, For the scent of a flower That catches thy scense, Has created Life, She... Has created Love...

Thy holds that of sacred rose, In secret of Aphrodite's garden, Where thee can hold sweet whispers, As those of other realm divine, Take the filled bosom of core, Thine breaks mother boundary, To surpass her limits, With essense pure through May match heaven holy, And carress blissful expectations, For dream as dream, Not one wavering moon, Shall possess what radiant glow, Of crystal touched light, Is carried in thine beauty.

A wake of heavy dreams, As you step through a jaded scene, The trees lay whispers to your ear, While the wind brings scents Held from distant places, Your art prepared to be weilded, As it remains an exstension Of limb... and life, Knowledge of use Ancient beyond mind, Yet remains more graceful Within Time's eye, A gentle touch to the soul, As your prepare to draw, Release As you listen to its sacred song, The reflection of your soul Remains upon the blade, For every movement Tells a story unheard, This is not my instrument of death, But of Life...

Signs held doubtful close, Why is the shadow seen? For every crow flys Leaving a dove behind to die Soul destined to sing Unheard by the listened ear Held in greatful expression Must it be the rose Rose of human race Left bleeding Where there is an eye Seen crying Knowledge of the blade Let out from mindful warmth For shield is set and cracked A mirage that disapeared Life holds no sway A soul holds the truth As it looks on within a rose Left Bleeding

In eyes that seem so pure There is a shadow Once met by blind acceptance A darkness lit by abyss For in all strength There was none to remain And in the depths Of this seemingly bright heart One failed Not in the path of life But the path of soul A heaven not heard By the waking ear An eye blind to itself For in doubt Is hope Behind the lies

Here I stand, conflicted in self doubt. Yet, at the same time, I carry more confidence then ever. So, I am like yin and yang. Holding both aspects of life and character without conflicting with each other. Yet confliction is the very nature of good and evil, of black and white. White represents the light of everything, while black simbles absence. So, am I confused, or am I just correct in holding such balance? For, it is known that in order to understand life, one must experience death. Does this mean I am one who is wise, or just another fool full of ideas and philosophies? Surely I am not done in my quest for Truth. Though the Truth is no