Immortal I stand at the dawn of time watching as history unfolds what will become of mankind. War and evil is said to be man made, but it was created by the Ancient of Days; long before the snake will entice the mortals to slay.
The land is green with promise of that which is unseen, seize the day while it is young is the battle cry of the old, carpe diem is dead and cold. Potential is something that is most not fully realized, and never surpassed. History is the story of man never learning from the mistakes they have made before; there is no new problem under the sun.
Little spiders in my brain running at the speed of light, each carries a little thought some of: joy, hope, fear, and delight. Another fly dies food for thought is consumed fueling my mind through out the night.
The war within is the one not without belief, that these ants, spiders, and flies live and die for something larger than what they are in this life. “Veni Vedi Veci” Caesar cried but what was it for that this ant died? Shakespeare wrote, he spun and weaved but with his web of beautiful words is he really anything more than a spider to me?
The Brink of the dawn until this point in time: you’re born, you live and die. Is there a point to try? The pages of history are all the same, but do your best to live it different in each day. We will put it on your grave that you dared to live for the new day, which never came for you anyways.
Immortal I stand at the setting of the sun it seems like yesterday time has just begun; but now it’s done and these mortals had a good run. They have managed to find grace in the eyes of the Ancient of Days.