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Showing posts from December 20, 2014

Sin the seen

There lives a sinner not in Sinbad,
He thinks he sins but not so much as much he sees,
Much lesser, lesser than a few, purer than the impure, to him, it seems,
He doubts a lot, over him, over her, over all for he is not sure,
For the soul purest on earth regaled in him,
for the only admirer of truth and providence was in him,
as he would like to believe.
'A sinner overlooks the sin, not the saint, until he sins', he scoffed in disguise,
The world was a farce, a morbid reality of the degeneration of humanity,
corrupted by intentions, maligned with actions!
And, the sinner, who thought himself as a saint, thought he knew it all!
To him, he was the judge who examined the crime, knowing there was one!
He knew the truth, in his own graveyard,
But alas! he forgot he had committed a crime, convicting none but innocence!