The Anonymous Spirit... Poem by Vikrant Jog

The lake of solace was never turbulent one,
Truly, it never looked that way,
But earth's core has its own say,
You, Me, I, We, They cannot have its guarantee,
In dreams, Anonym meets in the Illuminati,
He was a dream-walker,
As the lake he was comfortably numb,
Not his sole,
Not his ether.

He wanted to clean his water, clean his guilt,
Follow the Illuminus as Divine Rhythm,
Change the water into wine,
But traps sailed his way,
Now Angels deserve to die.

The Judgement day was long down the boulevard,
Chances come, opportunities go,
A pilgrim turned down a pagan emerges,
A Holy Symphony of Destruction.

Again the Anonym arose for cleaning the eternal wounds,
Voices follow down the broken edge,
Spirits immaculate on the healing hymn,
Wake up my friend,
I am the only one to be the sober one,
You are saved,
I prefer that good,
You take it bad...