Words are too literal
And thus distract
Whereas instrumentals alone
Tap into the metaphysical
And influences the direction of your soul
Without you even knowing it.
Words are too literal
And thus distract
Whereas instrumentals alone
Tap into the metaphysical
And influences the direction of your soul
Without you even knowing it.
Folding hands like origami,
In movements mimicking,
Combination of yoga and martial artistry,
‘Kung fu’ is what they call it,
But that is not what it means.
Great plains,
Frozen lakes,
Dirt-smeared faces,
Crawling on all fours,
Pledging fealty,
In both fear and desperation;
To he who occupies,
The raised dias,
Great King of Kings,
Kubalai Khan!
The eternal blue sky’s mandate to conquer,
He inherited,
The diversity of his empire,
He embraced,
Through the prism of violent barbarity of his culture,
He enforced his authority
Throughout eternity does his deeds echo,
And the cog that turns the myth into legend,
Is studded with savage barbs,
To scar and bloody any who venture near,
For all time.