At the Epicentre

At the epicentre of belief, there are no veiled shadows 

There is only relentless seeking without the conjectures

Thinking of the immensity of the conscious echoing

Voix céleste, asking me to surrender my senses

Saying, “Seek not the unsympathetic words in multitude”

If not for the honest reason, it is not possible to be free

From excessive jealousy to indifference; it’s vicious

Still, the epicentre pulsates with a dynamic sense

Time isn’t fair when diluted in the intoxicating frenzy

What is known of the common pleasures obscure 

Unconvincing timbre won’t echo the essential truth

There is no point looking through crooked perspectives

At the epicentre of identity and unwavering belief

Without the trappings of changing visage of untruth


6 thoughts on “At the Epicentre

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