The Temple (From Where Gentle Voices Utter Words of Scorn to the Mob With Forever Closed Eyes)

The Devout

Behold the temple of frozen rain and a wintry preference 
Where the "Self" indulges in impious elegance 
There I sculpt the river of imagination 
Beyond difference, at the highest degree of sensation 

You will bow so low that you shall never rise from the endless snow 
Where your bleak eyes decay and you stand alone at the bay 
As I transcend opposites and observe your fall 
Most sensual, your corpses hanging on the temple wall 

How their narrow views amuse me 
Oh "I", let their fear amuse thee 
Their mouths shall stay silent 
For the temple does not tolerate a blind argument 

So let´s shed a tear 
For my vision is clear 
Far at the periphery of my thought 
Where most exquisite sights are caught
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