Is your soul fabricated of The ***** Gore Vidal depicted? Is morality subjective?
Or do you find your truth in Atlas' Shrug? William Buckley's perspective
Marie Antoinette, she said without fret, there's no plight just let them eat cake
Then she ate all of it, and with her soiled wit, her head was the people's to take
James Madison's stake, was to assure we make, the rich to be the priority,
He said without them, the poor are condemned, so there's no room for quarrels morally

Yet I ask you to ask, I beg that you mind
The Guillotine falls, and that's by design
From the top it tumbles, cleaving the wicked
The evil, the malicious, and I pray the indifferent

It is the same garden that holds,
Prickly rose bushes,
Healing basil and spritely marigolds.

It is here the bees fly, birds rest their wings,
It is here every morning the nightingale sings.
It is here the hare scampers, the squirrel scurries,
The snake slithers, the rodent hurries.
It is here the gecko hides, the worm crawls,
The bat flies when darkness falls.

In the mud and the dirt, the soil and the gravel,
In coarse little stones, smooth little pebbles,
In  topaz skies, in waters azure,
In a lotus that blossoms in a world impure.
In the siesta of flowers, the fiesta of leaves,
In the dance of raindrops serenaded by  a breeze.
In summer's golden glare, autumns russet finger
In the green breath of spring, the white hand of winter..

Beauty in His creations, in every season,
In every color for a rainbow of reasons.
Each special and each rare,
Each, in a bough or burrow,
Has a niche somewhere.