i am course, blemished, unfinished
***** hands, fingernails playing through broken strings
a child's small fist
often a rage
often alone in the dark
vulnerable,moving through the mystery
reaching my end in silence
...a myriad of cobbled pathways that once led to castles
i hear the stones begin to sing beneath my feet
and cross threshold after threshold
all manners of visions and awakenings
....sight of you engraves my soul
i go to the one who goes to the one
without fear
...without fear

There are hundreds of reasons to live but just one reason to die. Remove that vexing one reason and live.

How here
Is one more purer
Another whiter
A color so wrong?

How can the outsides
Of a thing make dirt
Fiber and tissue
Stronger than heart?

And how does the sun shine
Equally without judgement
Or doubt on every facet
Of life without question?

As a storm crowns with terror
Who escapes it's
wrath,
And is killing for hunger
The same as ****** in rage?

How can we take pleasure
Knowing eventual means death,
And how can lovely eyes hide
Such hateful revenge?

All my questions unanswered
From centuries of presumed
Wisdom, religion or philosophy,
Leader, or peasant.

And since the clouds open exactly the  same for creatures as they do man,
And the storms turmoil neither
Measures good or bad,
And as the trees and grasses grow as well for the
Masses of variety,
And the seasons ebb turn freeze
And boil-
Isn't it with reason I ask
How then did man
Reach the conclusion
Of his
Superiority,
At all?