The Psalms of Mortality

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The Psalms of Mortality Page 4

by Henry M. Piironen

wanders the upward path,

  No cold lies are poisoning the fountain;

  Pale are those in their anger,

  As if trying to paint the air.

  Trumpets of the angels blow loudly,

  For the sake of those who love existence,

  Unlike the sorrowful doctor Faust.

  Great are the powers of the cheerful mortals,

  Like the Gigantes of the ancient mysteries,

  With rapid movements,

  Their eyes pass judgment over the black inked hearts.

  30.

  The gloom rising from the awakened soul,

  Once painted dark by the songs of the masses,

  Sitting with them at their intoxicated requiems,

  Drinking heavily;

  But now their wines leave the head dry,

  The eyes are clear and the mind is sound,

  Those born to descend,

  Are now under his feet.

  Their wisdom was that of the left hand path,

  Their hearts sealed to nothingness,

  How much fog was in the mind before the awakening.

  O mortal,

  Surely the enjoyments of are not sins,

  Surely the awakened travel inside the realms of intoxication,

  But there is nothing real for you to find there.

  O mortal,

  Come,

  Rise,

  And leave the unprofitable chats.

  You descended by accident,

  And by yesterday nights of humanity;

  Rise like the moon to your seven spheres,

  Turn back,

  I ask you,

  From the useless glamour and wilderness!

  Rise,

  Before the body begins to break unto your death!

  31.

  The flies fly through the fingers,

  Circling around,

  Confused of their existence,

  Who with a tragic death exit their lives.

  Now,

  That is the place of all my existence,

  All my joys and sorrows,

  Not sacrificing any thought or time to non-existent spirits,

  How dare the eternal ask even years,

  From these few days of my not everlasting eternity.

  What is your will, if it be the will of others?

  What is your choice, if they be the choices given by others!

  To the mortal, freedom has evolved into a matter of conquest,

  An entrance into something yet effortless,

  From the first morning light to the last moment,

  The sweetness of joys and smiles are the delights of my heaven.

  32.

  Outside good and evil,

  Even the wisest sing and dance,

  Like our fellow creatures, the birds rise from day to day,

  Is this not worthy a note,

  For all from the genius to the fool,

  All search the moments of joy from the day.

  I trust myself as so to find these places,

  An answer rising from the giggling belly.

  Bring the depths to my chamber,

  That is only the second significance,

  For O my mortality is a playful educator.

  Now deep as an ocean,

  How easily it drowns the lamp of light.

  33.

  O the ever beautiful daughters of Earth,

  Far are the years of your oppression going,

  And soon,

  The sin of Eve is known no more.

  The sun just rising,

  For the liberation of the ways of your nature,

  Like the candle that is soon elevated to be the daylight.

  Why should we continue this foolish fight,

  Of the ages now past!

  Inspired I am from your young,

  And though I hear the old ways still singing their shameful songs,

  With purpose of our wings,

  So shall those songs be left into history,

  For now,

  All the future is equally yours,

  O the ever beautiful daughters of Earth.

  34.

  Of bold victories all the beasts of our own creation,

  The ages of liberation have risen,

  From Christ to Gandhi to Martin Luther King,

  Now these nights of our thought harbor here no more.

  But in the presence of our power of our creations,

  The rise of these unthinkable beasts await,

  They are modes of thought,

  Nested inside the minds of the masses.

  But like the wise know how close their evil mouth,

  For thousand mouthed are we,

  When through the streets the nobility of our hearts wanders,

  From the fragmented thousands,

  So we can compose the Majesty of human nature.

  35.

  To sober one’s mind away from stealing and killing,

  Placing one’s eyes to see through the lifetime of another,

  Such are the ways of the nobility of heart,

  Such are the ways of those who understand the mortality of all life,

  Are priests the reason you do so not?

  Good hearted mortal,

  Retain your soul from such malice for your own nature’s sake;

  Rebellious minds against the creations of our thoughts,

  The darkness inherited from our ancestors,

  Because of the wise eyes they were forced out of you!

  Like talking to fearful rabbits,

  Still stranger sound your words unto all,

  Who understand not their mortality.

  Left and right hands,

  Let them be made companions,

  Step after step,

  With the patience of eternity,

  The mortality’s triumph for the union of these paths shall rise.

  But you impatient are weeping for why it not be so already,

  Nor the next day,

  But only until the rise of another sun,

  The peace made to ascend.

  36.

  To see the infinite variation in continuations,

  In mind they lead to uncertain ends,

  Yet their ends are certain ends.

  The blind speak of points of no return,

  Perhaps in the causality it be so,

  But for the sake of the persistence of memory,

  Oh foolish it would be to not try again!

  The dead are forever dead,

  The living unchained through the eyes of eternity,

  Not raging,

  Still being the fiercest of storms,

  For all the existing time is theirs, and theirs alone.

  If a mortal has no great dreams to live for,

  Reader of a vast amount of variation hid in every moment is he not.

  But the fact is that in every moment,

  Exists everything,

  That is human.

  What if the immortals were blinded so,

  Would their existence be but an everlasting drift,

  Receiving life only from the chaotic unions of causality!

  Foremost importance of a mortal is:

  If all life be the children of chaos,

  How blindly do we enter through the gateways of the future,

  When there are only marriages of the chaotic spheres.

  37.

  Like having a tone are all souls sounded,

  The tones of anger,

  The tones of the deep,

  And those of the lost.

  Behind me are the times of dreams,

  The mountains,

  And the hall of mirrors,

  Till I came to hear the tones of our souls.

  The same things glorious and beautiful still I find,

  Unknown friends being like the ones old now,

  Only spoken I have not with them.

  My lord was once the creation of our thoughts,

  Until I was born to see
them only as thoughts,

  And not the protector of mortal existence!

  Other acts dependent of the free will then rise,

  From the unpredictable nature of the quantum world,

  Undetermined,

  Beauty of the unforeseeable rising from this apprehension,

  Skilled in the mastery unbound causality.

  So I cast my dices,

  In the remembrance of Adam's loss.

  He is the brother of the fatherless souls,

  Tone of a sweeter voice I hear,

  In a righteous passion,

  The solid ground is in his Wisdom.

  This Earth was once a star,

  Till our search to return to the paradise lost began,

  For that we must work,

  Your glowing soul,

  The emerald of the thousand ears,

  Hear the sound that will lead us home.

  38.

  Responsibilities for others the mortal has not,

  You cannot give him more than you freely choose,

  Why not? Why will you not dance his dance!

  Thus change the spheres like the moon.

  Arrived to mortality you have,

  And entered from the womb of non-existence you have,

  To the spheres of life,

  Some remote,

  Some only one step away,

  Some where you are at:

  A better soil is created from the first dawn possible to grasp.

  On the other side of the sphere,

  Are eyes that see differently,

  Yet the body being at the very same event.

  The moon is but a mindless sphere,

  Let all the heavens and realms of hell be our own creations!

  My death bed is forever bleeding in me,

  I speak not to comfort you with an illusion,

  For the composition of the moon is its identity!

  39.

  Bootless were my legs when I was born,

  This way to our deaths we will go,

  And my waist enjoys the laughs no more,

  With my brothers and sisters of mortality,

  Thus I live in indulgence of the moments,

  Instead of being in the abstinence of these passing joys!

  Enter to the rights of the mortal,

  Why or for what would the nobility of our hearts exist,

  Penalty,

  Under that word we justify giving harsh pains to others.

  But unpenetrable breastplate the truthful of their mortality wear,

  Enrolled away from that dreary mind.

  And I know death as one of my spheres,

  It is a thought,

  And the truthful knowledge to justify dreams of all kind,

  How could I condemn anyone of the spheres of dreams rightfully chosen,

  For we are all carriers of that terrific sphere!

  40.

  The blind winds hover over the discrimination of the content of awareness,

  Sister sphere of condemnation said she must get the other to know as she knows.

  Oh, who can but sink in such of a sphere!

  One cannot blame the

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