(Poem By Henoke Yeshetlla)
As the temperature rises
The height of the thermometer too
As the heat turns out to be hotter...
Then before all the instrument...
The thermometer speaks in rising first.
That is the greatest action of its existence....
To rise up as the temperature rises...
So what rises in us is our anger...
When savagery hits his land...
The true man rises up with a sword.
There is no illusion in him
He is with a perfect sense
He can't look "gloomily on to his children"
He is not that to pass them a life of dis-honor.
When a true man rises...
The priest has to see a dream...
And the monk's in the monastery....
It is him the altar of hope...
It is by him, the horses learns how to gallop....
Him the shrine of truth...
and the holy tomb of liberty...
It is him, with his bow and spear...can reveal...the deity...
His voice crosses the ocean...
The wheels of his Chariot brings the desert sand high...
It is by his becoming; the fetus has to hit his mother's womb....and shine.
His face Illuminates truth
As his horse pounds the earth down....
Give distinct levels for the rocks....
Sediment, Igneous and metamorphic rolls.
and the impression his horse shoe on the crust...
But it is only when the time comes...
Not by the sentiment of duty...
But by the virtue of his natural beauty...
The beauty of truth and loyalty....
To the people for whom he rise his sword for...
Contrary to our worldly experience
There is no pain in his side....
Pain is to see his own self disgraced...
Pain is for him, when he speaks not...and in silence
Pain for him when his fellow man...hides beneath the river
Pain is or him, when he sees a divided kingdom.
He is him, and the essence of his rationality is his courage...
It is that mixture which marks him out of the cage...
His sword sniffs out justice....
and his mercy is for all but the oppressed.
He is a skilled hunter...
as fine as the fine hands of finest artist...
His solemnity give peace to the heart....
as the obeisanced bowing of the magi...
His existence is only to obey his powerful human nature
and to nurture his people with peace from the blessings his sword brings.
I know him.
As the temperature rises
The height of the thermometer too
As the heat turns out to be hotter...
Then before all the instrument...
The thermometer speaks in rising first.
That is the greatest action of its existence....
To rise up as the temperature rises...
So what rises in us is our anger...
When savagery hits his land...
The true man rises up with a sword.
There is no illusion in him
He is with a perfect sense
He can't look "gloomily on to his children"
He is not that to pass them a life of dis-honor.
When a true man rises...
The priest has to see a dream...
And the monk's in the monastery....
It is him the altar of hope...
It is by him, the horses learns how to gallop....
Him the shrine of truth...
and the holy tomb of liberty...
It is him, with his bow and spear...can reveal...the deity...
His voice crosses the ocean...
The wheels of his Chariot brings the desert sand high...
It is by his becoming; the fetus has to hit his mother's womb....and shine.
His face Illuminates truth
As his horse pounds the earth down....
Give distinct levels for the rocks....
Sediment, Igneous and metamorphic rolls.
and the impression his horse shoe on the crust...
But it is only when the time comes...
Not by the sentiment of duty...
But by the virtue of his natural beauty...
The beauty of truth and loyalty....
To the people for whom he rise his sword for...
Contrary to our worldly experience
There is no pain in his side....
Pain is to see his own self disgraced...
Pain is for him, when he speaks not...and in silence
Pain for him when his fellow man...hides beneath the river
Pain is or him, when he sees a divided kingdom.
He is him, and the essence of his rationality is his courage...
It is that mixture which marks him out of the cage...
His sword sniffs out justice....
and his mercy is for all but the oppressed.
He is a skilled hunter...
as fine as the fine hands of finest artist...
His solemnity give peace to the heart....
as the obeisanced bowing of the magi...
His existence is only to obey his powerful human nature
and to nurture his people with peace from the blessings his sword brings.
I know him.
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