We break here.

Poetry is meaningless, irreproachable,
Irrational, Unmotionable, unemotionable,
Or is it?

Could it be the record of man's struggle, internal and external,
To this world of unjust pain, unnecessary violence and tiring unrest.

Or the poor man's perspective.
His gloomy outlook upon a gloomy world
A world in which the power of love loves everything except
Peace, the fellow man and morality.
That hates happiness, humour and humility.

Of glowing sunshines and dark shining moons
A sky set violet balloon,
Let loose from a sand dune
On a glorious beach somewhere.
Somewhere peaceful, loving, humble.