While the swordsman fights
The wordsman writes
Through the ages there were swordsmen
Fighting for peace, land and justice
But now there are only wordsmen
Writing for fame, ego and comfort
Over time, swords became pens
Words became bullets
Our One became several
As we all became vain
The words in our minds are always perfect
With strong meaning, as if devoted
But when a page is found for them to rest on
Everything changes
Each reader has their own agenda, problems, motives, incentives
With no hope for consensus
All around us people are blinded
Seeing the world as separate
Feeling desperate
Looking for answers, but finding only more questions
Knowing the path produces constant denial and upheaval
Walking the path is tough to begin with
'Little ol' me' are the goggles we're given
Repeated so much and for so long, we no longer know any different
Common sense isn't so common
And even smart people can often be, oh so blind
Understating the possible
Disbelieving the obvious
Independent free thought has long been forgotten
We just take the stories as given
Never looking a layer further deeper
Asking the wrong questions yet finding the right answers
As if we're being shuffled into a trap
Putting our faith in such big institutions
Assuming compliance
But when the veil is finally lifted
Who will be the last one to laugh?
Will it be those who walked furthest?
Or maybe those who walked in a straight line?
Our paths are all different
Yet we construct identical boxes
Blindly hoping that uniqueness will flourish on the same beaten track
So let's admit it together my Brothers
A single template for all of us masses, there will never be
So the answers are with us
We just have to ask the right questions
And that's something that cannot be suppressed or controlled
They can only divert your attention
For no more than a brief moment or just the blink of an eye
True damage is done only when you invite them
To come unto you and turn your light into dark
Oh my dear Brothers, how much we have suffered
In the hands of the cancerous shepherds
Whose ambitions have unworldly binds
Its not about money or those precious resources
Scarcity is just a concept used to divide
What then can unite us my Brothers?
Surely a union of mind, body and spirit is the first step on any such path
Who or what's there to save us?
Is not the right question
Instead ask...
What will I do once I'm saved!?
The binds that hold dearest
Are always the hardest to fracture
Denial will help with the symptoms
But will never offer a cure
This world has changed and still it keeps changing
All just mere cycles
Going one way and people another
Will you change for the better, or go with the crowd?
Can you fathom the cancer that pervades our existence?
And will you take action in being part of the cure?
Or will you melt from illusion
That the world is just like this
And has always been so
For whichever reasons; you seldom think twice
As long as the ego is happy, pointed, anointed and bloated
All is forgiven
And for some, things are perfect
If only inside their self-constructed soul-crushing box
Eternal Love is the true answer dear Brothers
But alas we digress
And eternally love only our Selves
Written by George Tchetvertakov
The wordsman writes
Through the ages there were swordsmen
Fighting for peace, land and justice
But now there are only wordsmen
Writing for fame, ego and comfort
Over time, swords became pens
Words became bullets
Our One became several
As we all became vain
The words in our minds are always perfect
With strong meaning, as if devoted
But when a page is found for them to rest on
Everything changes
Each reader has their own agenda, problems, motives, incentives
With no hope for consensus
All around us people are blinded
Seeing the world as separate
Feeling desperate
Looking for answers, but finding only more questions
Knowing the path produces constant denial and upheaval
Walking the path is tough to begin with
'Little ol' me' are the goggles we're given
Repeated so much and for so long, we no longer know any different
Common sense isn't so common
And even smart people can often be, oh so blind
Understating the possible
Disbelieving the obvious
Independent free thought has long been forgotten
We just take the stories as given
Never looking a layer further deeper
Asking the wrong questions yet finding the right answers
As if we're being shuffled into a trap
Putting our faith in such big institutions
Assuming compliance
But when the veil is finally lifted
Who will be the last one to laugh?
Will it be those who walked furthest?
Or maybe those who walked in a straight line?
Our paths are all different
Yet we construct identical boxes
Blindly hoping that uniqueness will flourish on the same beaten track
So let's admit it together my Brothers
A single template for all of us masses, there will never be
So the answers are with us
We just have to ask the right questions
And that's something that cannot be suppressed or controlled
They can only divert your attention
For no more than a brief moment or just the blink of an eye
True damage is done only when you invite them
To come unto you and turn your light into dark
Oh my dear Brothers, how much we have suffered
In the hands of the cancerous shepherds
Whose ambitions have unworldly binds
Its not about money or those precious resources
Scarcity is just a concept used to divide
What then can unite us my Brothers?
Surely a union of mind, body and spirit is the first step on any such path
Who or what's there to save us?
Is not the right question
Instead ask...
What will I do once I'm saved!?
The binds that hold dearest
Are always the hardest to fracture
Denial will help with the symptoms
But will never offer a cure
This world has changed and still it keeps changing
All just mere cycles
Going one way and people another
Will you change for the better, or go with the crowd?
Can you fathom the cancer that pervades our existence?
And will you take action in being part of the cure?
Or will you melt from illusion
That the world is just like this
And has always been so
For whichever reasons; you seldom think twice
As long as the ego is happy, pointed, anointed and bloated
All is forgiven
And for some, things are perfect
If only inside their self-constructed soul-crushing box
Eternal Love is the true answer dear Brothers
But alas we digress
And eternally love only our Selves
Written by George Tchetvertakov
