A Small Poem

In a life where the beauty of the sun and the moon cast around us, revolving - servants of universal sacrifices.

But, there is more than the protuberance of life in nature - there is everlasting captured hearts of angels - indisputable in eternal energy.

My heart sorely weeps, as I feel that somehow humanity missed what the art of expression really was. More than just an individual - but a real community of men along side , not fighting eachother, fighting for the right to live in the most difficult of circumstance.

Oh, but virtue we should see, as rivers of blood spill - men of good heart and spirit sacrifice themselves to the moon and the sun but why in vain? Oh what fortune do we condemn true love of heartiness and spirit in exchange for small victory? Or for a greater purpose?

No denied beauty can be overturned, no Samaritan turned away, no idea scoffed at - no person cast out, no individual self proclaimed to self-sacrafice, but perturbations as the finger of man reaches out to touch God a great veil of darkness exerts countless trillion balls of randomness - what chances are there of an invisible sea?

As much chance as there is life? For what is life but the continuation - and what is the irrevocable of it but the disarming martyred threats of justice. For if we have no justice we must not fight, but love - not pity, love injustice, the greatest chance to make a difference encroaches.

A tsunami of discovery beseeches us, and we bequeath it in patterns we write music and poems and books, but Oh the glory of man - is left to weap in defeat? Oh No - for powers of Belief and Knowledge seem so separated.

My heart in honesty says - no - not separated - integrated. It is all. Man's separation of understanding is but a dice that has been made.Such beautiful desperation to seek - so much tremendous hope. Still. We will search for it in life and death - for continuation.

Instead a great river extends beyond universality itself into all possibilities of a patron janitor of life itself - a kindness that can only be inherited, only can be denied, and only a practice of all things just and not.

Is not all man-sense in art of God - and is it not deemed true in belief or knowledge; then but not a curse, but a plan.

Glum For tuna , Osiris my brothers weep, but not so as each day crafted magnificently - what of care and deposition who and why? For our recognition of beauty is strong, but so misguided, we seek to know who and why but do not consider why we must - know and why? for a reason we know and why too!

The universe opens up in nothing and all - giving all known and why's opportunity to be explored, in all ways that can be - without limit on a logical foundation or an illogical foundation. Man is given so much and so little - perhaps it is my mind - but it would seem there is a force so huge and great and magnificent whether it be God or a Science becomes irrelevant - as one can only weep in joy at its magnificence - it's magnificence to seem to be able to overcome itself.

Could it be there is no irrelevance - only reverence?

Even the sky is not the limit. I care not of God or Science, but of my Love for all things that are and can be.

And now we must realise what we have been given. True preciousness and value - that is the beauty of suffering - and must always be. One day we will smile upon it, but first we must do all things!

What a wonderful thing is beauty -