By nature,
Within every man are two foxes...

Let us pray...

Pour forth we beseech you oh fox,
Your howl echoes in our hearts,
That by it we strongly adhere,
Made known in our actions and thoughts.

Amen!
We say,
To prayers served cold,
On a platter of flatter,
When we starve on willingful obedience to strange foxes,
A-men!
Singular fights plural,
Holding their own in this tumultuous ambush,
For survival and supremacy.

Wiles...
When the right eye and the left eye sees differently,
The right; the good,
The left; the bad,
And the brain sits in-between,
Torn in instincts,
Which runs counter to its obligation.

(Creeds of the heart...)
In here,
There is food,
Enough food for survival that stirs the dullest of instincts,
A saviour for the brain whose guides are safe to follow,
A satisfier, eradicating the abyss of confusion,
By some pure magic.

(Let thy will be done...)
Here is the matter to pause over,
For the brain calls the play,
And feeds a fox of its choice,
The heart can but only suggest which in its perfection,
And the anger of the heart,
Dissolves into tragic pleasure,
A combination of lessons learnt,
When the wrong fox is fed.

Let us pray...

Pour forth we beseech you oh fox,
Your howl echoes in our hearts,
That by it we strongly adhere,
Made known in our actions and thoughts.

By nature,
Within every man are two foxes...

Always fighting...
And always hungry...

For the fox that wins,
Is the one we feed the most.

#El_Magnifico™