THE UNCONVENTIONAL SCRIBBLER PRESENTS
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Words from the soul.

Paul Charles
​

(Scribz)

The Unconventional Scribbler

Creative Expressionist.

Life, is Life,
Is life.

​Until,
it is not.

Picture

Consequences, of the unknown

4/8/2022

 
​There is a pattern in everything, a shape, a form, a colour.
Each thought has a purpose, yet oft floats on by, a forgotten dream.
What though, of desire, of hope, of love, of time with no return.
What choice to be made for the next step forward.
What effect across this world, as both sun, and moon bring forth new life?

Who turns the wheel of cause, and effect, if not yourself my friend?   
​                        

Words 632

Such questions, plus a thousand more, each answer becomes entwined.
For the conscious world is a place of hope within each growing mind.
I have sought the reality of the many, shadowed by tales of the yester years.
Where deep and murky waters engulfed that of the wisdoms,
leaving legacies of fantasies to be un-ravelled through storm torn days.
What then, lays beyond, the conscious desires of truth?
What is there to share? if none can see beyond, if the new-born is without purpose.
What if, knowledge is no more than a ghost of the times.
 
Where then can one look, if not unto one’s peers? If not into the heart of now.
Wherefore the essence of ones being? The very truth of becoming alive.
I see it, glowing in the heart of nature, within all placed upon this earth.
Yet not in the hearts of humanity, for that has passed us by.
There is none of lies, within the realms of the living, which questions not.
There is none of deceit, nor sins, nor fantasy desires, there are none that seek to overcome
the cause of actuality; there is but the breath of life, as nature nurtures all.
 
I cannot speak as one who knows these things, for I know not the cause, nor way
For I, as the many, remain caught in the web of conscious mind,
betrayed by them who came before, bloodying the innocence of land and sea
ravaging the very core of life, of heart, of soul.
​
‘Tis sad this tale, these words I speak, for I am guilty, as any throughout time.
I lost the essence of truth and spirit, within the very first breath of life.
Blindly I entered the world of lies, deceived by the powers of greed.
Blindly I allowed myself to be led, becoming devoid of purpose, and reason.
A broken soul, amid broken souls carrying none but that of unwholesome rage.
Yet surely, did I question mine self, for I saw none of this in natures surround.
I walked with the many, in the realms of humanities ignorance, with neither care, nor love toward any,
I knew no better than that of selfish gain, of sorrow, and darkened thought, yet knew not why.
For if there is dark, there needs be light. If rage then calm, if life, then surely death.
 
I stepped beyond my conscious being, I discovered there was much I did not know.
I saw the depths of my despair and sought the scales of truth.
Such wonders did I find, yet feared, for all was beyond the world I knew.
All now, was open to question, yet the tainted soul new not, what to seek.
 
Therefore, I closed mine mind, and drifted as one asleep.
Soon I became aware that there is a pattern in everything, a shape, a form, a colour
Each thought has a purpose, though oft floats on by, a forgotten dream.
‘Twas, here in this moment, I discovered truth, which could not have been,
had I not lived the life of, lie and deceit, passed on by they who came before.
What of desire, of hope, of love, of oneness within natures truth.
It is there, waiting within, the birth right, for all to find.
It lays just beyond that of human greed, the path of endless destruction.

 
 

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    ​
    ​Paul Charles

    (Scribz)​

    The Unconventional Scribbler

    Creative Expressionist.

     Words from the Soul.

    Life, is Life,
    Is life.

    ​Until,
    it is not.
     
    We each live in a world of our own experiences, where one person's truth is not always
    the truth of another.
    scribz
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