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Eric Paeplow

Dance Of Souls

The dance of souls,
The dance of fate
Each dancing alone,
Each one,
Arriving too late

The dance goes on and on,
It never truly ends
For each soul lusts for joy
Each one,
Trying to escape their fate

Gliding across the floor,
To and fro
Entangled,
Enlightened and desired

Still, the band plays on,
As if eternal
The cords flowing,

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Gods Of War And Reason

Life is controlled by the Gods of War
No man can escape his part in this role
The thirst for power and drive for control
Is an all consuming fire that burns in his soul

For the Gods of Reason, a small part in the show
For reason takes time and is much too slow
Man however is impatient and cruel
Power consumes life and burns like a fuel

The reason in man is tempered by time
Power after all, needs no reason or rhyme
Reason is a luxury to the race of man
No other species thinks that far in advance

If a drive for power appears or exists
The Gods of War slay all who resist
If only the Gods of Reason ruled the race of man
Life would have been peaceful, from the time it began

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Unremarkable

Mankind is an unremarkable creature
With a largely warped set of ideals
A bloated sense of self importance
Frail and useless, with notions of superiority

Believing in some supreme order
The only creature who refuses to be what we are
Clinging to our cruelty and to our exquisite mistakes
Until death at last, stares us each in the face

We are the only animal for whom our own existence
p*ss but a problem, which needs to be solved
In a desperate search to find our better angels
Only to find our demons and demigods

We often wax poetic about the cruelty of man
Yet no animal could ever be as cruel as we can
And in the deep crevices within our minds
We are merely crude, pestilent and blind

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Sad Wings Of Destiny

Mournful, yet grand is the destiny of man. Believing he can look destiny in the eye, without so much as flinching. And only after having swallowed the seeds of fate, did he find, they grew into hate. Making what was once water to the faithful, turn to nothing more, than blood, before the eyes of an unbeliever. Of all that man has been, or in his vanity, may come to believe, destiny, after having granted his wishes, also gave him more than he perceived. For only by the work of his own two hands, could such suffering be achieved. Leading him to fight against his destiny, even though, he had no hope of victory. Like pantomimes of white, on a background of black, his destiny, appears as a silken thread, lost in an endless labyrinth of time. Never knowing, only death transforms life into a destiny, for only death has no need for time. Having denied love, he sealed his fate. Unable to find the meaning and never seeing the truth of life, that it may only be found with another, but not alone. Fear, merely encouraged his ignominy and transported him to the nether world, where he will at last, take his final flight, on the sad wings of destiny

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