Goods broken would be considered sold

The stake of existence in its tale binds the beauty of the true,

The theft of commodification of invaded privacy hid the Bane of silence under its sinew

The soul exemplifies its being in the entirety of the truth that in gallant echoes screech

Humans forge their breaths in the exemplar of the impermanence of the eternal chaos that lies beyond their reach

I mourn my death with the fall of the night and forge my mortal presence in the radiance of fresh air

To be a shudder with their deemed tales or to be in the complacency of my tale, a question in its benevolence shamelessly stares,

If goods broken would be considered sold, the complex beings of humanity would their value find,

The ones adorned with the beauty of tenacious strives would be regarded as one of a kind.

- Hridya