The Cups

Would you fill all the cups with darkness, or leave few of them empty for the light too
Transcendence isn’t incidental
Was light born of darkness or the other way around
Maybe they are both independent and equally fierce, trying to obliterate each other’s presence
The battle of significant energy reaching a crescendo, inaudible to the mortal ears
Also, incomprehensible to the feeble senses
The cups seem to be insatiable; sitting there quietly, but a cosmic rage resonating in the particles
All that we have shaped without the consent shrouded in darkness and dilemma
Is it all a matter of chance or a thought that may have originated somewhere
Drink from the cups and satiate the urge to drown in darkness or wait for that solitude to bathe in light
Just one moment that can shatter all the cups and excite each particle to awaken

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