the voyage of innumerable miles
furnished strength, of a thousand sails
guiding each yonder the reach
off to a boundless expanse
of the new tomorrow

in countenance
with arms outstretched
to tolerate contentment
to acclimate to the average
and want for far less
smiling

In a land where convenience furthers
Not perseverance, and 'ignorance is bliss',
Is amiss, as it's far more than "Godliness",
It being, "All", and n'er is perceived,
The universe of a grain of sand, as it,
Like love, grasped, Just falls from their hand,

Even the hollow of belief
Is an unattainable goal,
For the path less traveled
Is more travailed, n'er sold.  
In their opine,
Their best, "skol".


reality

She glories in how projected her butts are but forgets how minute her brain works.
The length of her fingers and nails gives her confidence but she doesn't see how short her life is.
She gallops from door to door wherever wealthy men dwell but never bothered to get the the key to the door leading to the life after here.
She pities the churchy lady for not catching fun, but deep down her, she has no joy herself.
The fragrance of her perfume still could not conceal the odour her character produces.
She is wise at getting all she can now but never thinks of securing the future after life here.
Her elegant physique and graceful skin is her choice asset.
Walking with straight neck and wobbling **** to lure her preys, she forgets the day she would need a walking stick.
She indeed is myopic in her thoughts.
She flouts the morals of her society just to please herself.
She constructs a world she can't sustain.
Like a missionary sepulchre, her outward beauty glows but within her are the wiles the wisest of men can't resist.
She trades her  beauty for pennies.
She's a *******!