What feeds our essence?

Is it the divine nature that we nurture in our daily spiritual pilgrimage, one has to wonder why some seem to have it in unbending abundance?

Melancholy dispersed in one’s soul, no tear, no words, no fear indeed, I worship thee. The God in you is too glorified not to worship thee. Don’t turn away. Soul lost, no direction, no future. I bow down to you, see, look, you are my future.

Polarity and radiance in this degree make one too volatile not to worship. My divinity of joy, peace distributor of my soul. If it’s not the gods that have United us, lead me to whom did this unforgivable deed. I speak it out loud for all to ear, you are too volatile not to worship. In worship, I worship thee.

Past and history are intertwined into one existence of once since stood of purpose. In past we forget, the history we seek and the future we hope for. Trust unifies them all together. Though no history to speak of, past no tale, only darkness of disparity and future no longer an eagerness of pursuit. I liberate myself, you are my future.