The Unknown

With the world tiring off its mettle,

And me with no forced exception,

An unheard voice from the city of souls,

Shattering the glasses of unconsciousness,



Which over does its destine,

Goes towering ahead of its worth,

Unfolding the hidden contour ,

Leasing the brute inside,



Stirring the modest to mutiny,

The power whose potential is iridescent,

The true texture still a tempest,

Daunting the holiness,



Flaunting towards the evil,

Glimpsing the petite self-the master,

Bringing the world closer towards,

Shrinking its apart poles,



The convergence the masses,

A concert to brain and a mock to the common,

All pondering over those unseen pictures,

Inching towards an omniscience unproven,



Wanting one by giving all,

Machining every possible grain towards those,

Giving the last possible blast,

And fading perishing into the dark,



Every white eye salivating in salvation,

Heart pounding to fall,

With they ready to surrender,

For 'what it is'?