"The noblest aim of art is making
The human heart still beat and burn.
And since the heart gives life its waking,
Art must to life itself return."
— Jean Guyau (poetic presentation of the statement).


A poet’s now a life restorer—
A heavy burden, hard to bear.
For hearts grow weak, their beats grow poorer,
And many die while breathing air.

Yet many climb, remain unshaken,
Still trampling heads without a care.
Save just a few—then, lost, forsaken,
You'll curse the Rotten Bedlam there.

And yet—again! Though fate is bitter,
And fame’s a game you cannot win.
They praise the fools, they praise the sinners,
For Evil spins the wheel of sin.

To drag a bag of bones once more,
Right to Hell’s ever-open door.
A final "Farewell"—cold, resigned,
For souls enslaved, now work assigned!

Their minds will turn to dust in vain,
The fools will toil, yet reap no gain.
To reach the skies—an easy feat,
For free? And fight the dark? Deceit!

Who'd praise such work? Who'd pay the price?
Who'd toss a fortune—treat it nice?
A slave walks down to Hell's embrace—
There's cash to earn. He’ll find his place...

Disasters—pros can stage them well,
To keep the slaves in mental hell.
That you’re in deep—no fool will see,
They'll let it slip unconsciously.

Heroic effort brings no gain—
This world’s too foolish, dull, and grim.
Genocide is but the chain
That Evil writes for fools like him.

It sets the script—its slaves obey,
Encouraging the idiot throng.
The villains know: the fools won’t stray
But call all madness right, not wrong.

They’ll bow to lies, accept the claim
That “Good” means nonsense, cruel and trite.
The play continues—just the same,
And souls keep dying in the night.

For that’s the plan: let Reason drown,
So fools, consumed by endless lies,
Can turn to cattle, beaten down,
As raving madness multiplies.

Thus, those who think must change their art—
To fight the Dark in smarter ways.
The swine obey the Devil’s heart—
We must not charge into the maze.

First, stop and think—don't just repeat
The blind crusades that failed before.
Or else you'll lead the mindless fleet
To darkness, chaining them once more.

The world is sick—repeats consume,
Each generation meets its doom.
A plague of lies spreads night and day,
And leaves us slaves who must obey.

Falsehood echoes, loud and clear—
The schemers work to sow the fear,
Erasing truth with every breath,
And binding minds till spirit’s death.

Truth is Spirit—hold it tight,
Through storms of soul, through darkest night.
If mere survival is your goal,
The Dark will surely steal your soul.

Something enormous is flooding my mind—
Love? Or another deception designed?
Fools disappear into Ignorance deep,
Never aware of the Evil’s grand scheme.

Tend to your small world with “love” and devotion,
Cherish your “friendship” and all that emotion.
Yet in the end, things are “getting much better”
By grinding down souls and minds till they shatter.

Water’s unseen by a foolish small fish,
Glass sets no limit to knowledge it swished.
Lies that are vast are as air—unperceived,
If you are fed and your body’s not grieved.

If walls of a prison enclose all around,
Only a fool sees the world unbound.
All like the guppies have drifted astray—
Slaves, yet too blind to escape or betray.

Filth and frenzy,
Lies keep spreading.
The more brazen,
The more blatant
Grows their preaching.
Vile and screeching,
Till the herd is drowning deep—
Trust the evil, stay asleep!