SinnerSaint’s Profile

A mirror speaks multitiudes, so we turn from this image and seek other reflections. things lost, things unseen. seeking pleasure, pain, lust, love and so we feel complete. my mirror felt me in multitudes, most undesirable of many. you may call me weak or vain, or so even a martyr. i remember a man who took his fate not to run. thus, of a noble soul am i. it shatters, my mirror, sometimes into a thousand pieces. for it feels the soul who stares into his most deep being and in his strength, even his reflection shatters. not of sadness or terror, but of inexcapable might and courage to dare stand still and say," i fear none but my father, as so in life you i shall not run from or in any way delay by denial this existence." No coward soul is mine, it shines like the sun at its lowest state and most comprhensible moment. I can speak nothing as it goes, leaving a beautifal stain even behind the clouds. though it leaves our sight, it never stops burning.
did my rays hurt you, did they burn you in any way? i cannot nor will apologize for what i am, but know i loved you all, to the extent you shall never know. Sensative a heart is mine. i have spilled more tears by myself, spilled them through resolution and reason. not only for my well being but for all. even the lowest things, which to me are the most beautifal and heroic beings in the world. yet none know their names. eccentric heroes are false, greatness is not measured by physical strength or endeavor but of the mind, and the lashes it sustains through sight that makes a slumber feel.
just to feel others than ones-self. take of your eyes judgement and feel through the heart what truly moves us to be so much greater than we are. we speak so quickly trying to prove what we are, it only proves us weak. show me a man in silence bearing all wrought, there will be the man in which wisdom is harboured and can be sought. wisdom not being of the all knowing but of the everlasting love in which wisdom is attained. Show me a man who spaeks too often, this will be the man who fears deeply and his mighty tongue only seeks the means to which he has not found and sadly if the tongue does not rest the tongue will be his means to the sad end. Seek only the heart and hold not it up to compare. we are each unique and special. i may seem weak, but in my weakness search for the truth in strength. There i found the heart that beats of a rare nature, that being because it is mine..
Some believe i fancy my life in death. those are ones whose hearts are closed. if you can, open it up for me and you will not see merely a man, but a man who defied tyrrany, stood still alone and in feeling made complete.