Upon this birth of chaotic life
We label our feelings as prosperity and strife
Trivial perception Of these emotive sensations leave us blind
To find is to find meaning in the body you stand

One may question the magicians' ability to alter the exterior
Yet anything physical and with mass is prone the interior
Such is the same with emotions- none can tell a virtue certainly
For the man who speaks in absolute shall lie grotesquely

A religious sect might say on is greater than the other
And, that this mortal race has but one mother
Being confined to such a notion is narrow at best
As the wise know nothing is true until rest

To bide and live with bliss is a mans' honest goal
Claiming rare affection and grief for no toll
To expand the single thought into a dual apprehension
This is that and that is this is a beautiful comprehension

For would birth be the start if there was no end?
And, death as a conclusion if not that *** had commenced it?
As goes for destruction as a looming factor
To destroy one must contain or be the reactor

Could the pacifist still show harmony if not for aggression?
And, rage not seem so hanus if not for it's opposite procession?