Revelation Of Purpose

The existential realm,
Is but a challenge for the meek.
With anger at the helm,
I hear thoughtless fury speak.

A slave to mortal whim -
You are a prisoner of sorts.
A patient fate, too grim,
Awaits the master of torts.

It was an epiphany enchanted,
That became the messiah ignored.
Seeking to be reprimanded,
Our own belligerence we must ford.

Pray not to the holy being and
Worship not, his powers, great.
Realise that the truth is in seeing,
That we are the masters of our fate.

By,

Nikhil Menon