The altitude is high.
No bombs over Baghdad,
But rather a rescue mission.
A rescue of the soul,
It’s losing control.
Destination: Castle De La Sol
That’s tough to swallow whole.
A tad profound, let’s break it down…
Born and blessed with
Five main senses:
Taste, touch, sight, sound and smell.
They help to find stable ground.
The system core;
Daily attacks from the outside influences,
Making it weak, pitiful, lost.
Soon the whole system could crash,
Offsetting personal existence itself.
Check in: Major dilemma.
At times like these we pull out the special reserve.
It’s well deserved, but don’t be greedy,
We must conserve.
Always put to use on that particular day,
When earth loses its axis,
Life itself is at stake.
The cork lifts, pops off.
And sip by sip the core is restored
To its once graceful self,
Tempting, tasty, naughty, delightful.
No more clear-cutting,
Too much damage has already been done.
You put something in,
You get something out,
As sweet as it sounds,
You just skipped stage one.
The toughest, most painful stage;
Figuring out what that is.
Then once you can grasp that,
Is that really it?
Good enough to be residual continuous happiness.
Is it strong enough to mend the system core?