A Cylinder Sky

He will scream from his eyes; for what will they do?
Dose another brother, or kill another two.
Oh yes it resides. It resides in the mind,
For only so much help can they do?
The injured can be cured and the weak can still be strong;
a paradoxal drift to be swayed from wrong.
And there; Heaven greets Brahma, trance intervenes.
A prayer to a G-o-d is to the nature of our being.
And if her be he, him be I,
Consciously subconscious,
So this must be divine.
I will walk along the stars,
This is life.
The world once square has now become round.
The box we once lived, now a circle far beyond.
And choice was true power, be it freedom of will.
For the poor mind shall be sick and the opened shall be still.
So resurrect the choir called upon by angels.
Their voice is not lost, yet blurred by persuasion.
Though unreal it may seem, we all do believe.
And to believe; we thus question,
a drift and silently.
So when the words are then spoken,
The mind is left open.
To release and make peace,
a still mind must cope with.