From the Swirl comes the Structure,
In the Structure feeds the Flow
and the Flow maintains the Focus.

So we can deduce
much like the pattern of life,
it begins as Freedom,
like colorful movement
exempt from rule.
While the other extreme,
the skill obtained of Focus & Form,
akin to miraculous mystery
wise sensuality
from royalty born.

Can you see the Procession
in difference yet alike?
Infancy is always Free
from Wisdom comes Sight
the Master of Vision
Magical Majesty
 ~Immaculate Precision.
 ~A Rainbow in the Light.

Deep unto the dreamy wood
Walk We, one Faerie to ‘nother
Swift~ Shift
Slighted plea
what cares of Noumenic Clemency
divide amongst they~
who do not know or care to see
forever to possess perverse tales
to talk away the mystery.
Swift ~ Shift
acrimonious possession
Sudden urgency
Cares Not~
Divide amongst Noumenic Novelty.

Coming birth of Elementals
entrancing ingenuity
foreseen such heavenly conception.
Ironic irreverence of Elements
pure Majesty
Still in Expectance of
blessed Faerie’s redemption
They ~ who do not care
will never know and ought never see.

This is about Strife.
The way one Group tends always to find flaw with another Group, finding all the differences to hate, ignoring any similarities to love.

R    R    R
O  O  O
  P  P  P
   EEE
   Our
  Tiny
Hands
  Would
    Grasp
       The
     Colorful
      Intertwined
         Threads as
           It keeps us
            All together.
               Our small frail
                 Faces grow and
                   The rope now fades
                      To brown becoming
                        Strength and freedom
                          Scaling mountains tall
                              And high. The rope
                              Is now saving the life
                               Of the man who slips
                                Or falls. It's amazing
                               How this small dusty
                               Rope, the one sitting
                                Thrown in the corner
                             The one that saves that
                        Mans life when tied
                    Into a circle loses the
                Meaning of life. It now
             Becomes a noose to
             Escape from your
          Dark days. That
      Same lifeline
  Now an end
To life. Now
Take that
Rope and
Twirl it high
Above your
Head watch
It become a
Game, and a
   Challenge full
     Of fun rope the
       Cows and grab your
         Friends which this rope
           Let's you catch. Now add
             A second circle and the
                Cowboy tool becomes a
                   Bow to tie your loves
                     Precious gift and teach
                       A child to work their shoe
                          Change the bow into a
                           Knot and it becomes
                         Your undoing, tying you
                     Back holding your hands
                  As you struggle with
               Your strenghth. It's
           Amazing how a
      worthless string
Of twisted twine
Becomes our
Entire lives
Saving them
Holding them
  Tying them
    Ending them
      Cheering them
        And keeping them
         To some it is a
    Collection of strings
Twisted to form a
Strong enough
Rope. To me
They are the
Strings of life
Put together to
Form our
stories
  R R R
O  O  O
P   P    P
E   E     E

Paroxysms of the galaxy
Ricochet throughout the universe;
Stars ripple and quake--
Combusting eternally,
Shattering melodically,
Spreading prismatic haloes.
Blindingly, blastingly, beautiful
Is the collapse of creation.