It is summer, and I did survive, the spring.
--- some lines need reading to live
Feeling for a way to say, I know
how salvation came to be desired.
Tacitly, I trusted my mother, and then,
a baby sister who was soon to die came, and
now, the looking back, allows, a vision, plain to make.
The depths of knowledge, the cultural glue
of a nation that habitually enforces allies oath to join wars
- as one nation, under Truth, (or some may think God,)
to establish the final peace war is intending to make,
some day, when all the chaos is combed
from the wooly fungi empires leave
in hidden sacred reasons for war,
schisms with abysses and eternal confusion,
such as empowers the very sun, enfolding itself
and shining on emptiness much more than on us.
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In good time, make all things ryhme reason,
or harmonize with harm mitigation,
to tell the truth for no other reason, my mission in life.
A negative instruction, a macrophage idea, know
lies appear in truths bent to serve a lust, a power will,
Take my instruction, the proverb treasures whisper.
Listen, in prayer, the mental exercise, of using knowns
to make known seeds, easy as dandelions do.
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Once there was a war in vain,
still the concept of sheeple remains,
and patience continues to cost your life,
but the truth that makes the others free, cost
a ton of time to accumulate in the original chaotic will,
to do it again, more boom, make rooom
goin up country, rolling like a persistent moss,
on the affirmation enforced compression to fuse,
one simplicity to another sublimnity - ah, ready…
Anabasis, come and see, going up, from the root.
Seeded time, time set aside to use today, to read.
Sowing time used to inform knowlegends, plaiting
patterned recognosis, strands of tangled dreads
we think, therefore, we think we may learn to know,
aha, olden days, first boundary of safety, fire lit.
Shining thing that burns, and bites the hand
that feeds it.
Valuable knowledge, any creature knows, but
maybe moths do not know, but. who knows,
moths could be called to go up,
spark a collection of unrelated facts,
arise,
thou bald head, go up,
and the shining
head begins to glow, heat escaping infra-ready
Anger, the adult tantrum of the bald one mocked,
revives an old devil of a temper preserved,
handled with kid gloves, made
from the skin of the kid that did not get away.
Scaped goat joy is ours, we celebrate, we won.
By the grace, the undeserved favor, as for services
never needed already done, accept the fact,
the deed did leave a knowledge. We learn to trust,
our own peace for protection, we seclude our selves,
alone,
to face all our demons in mortal function demos,
come, divine idea, bright known shown, come
tell me of the way out of thankless joy dispairing.
We joined and brought children up and into our time,
the bubble of being at the surface of ever itself,
the all knowing known we all think of as the whole truth,
in the oath we mentally agree to affirm,
thereby we all, solidify, the rock, on which this thing,
this wedom, you, you plurally, and me, reflecting
shining things, sure, affectually, certain as stars,
for holding storied points in the progression to now,
Time tellers held their knowing in time teller rules
to know by and to go by,
and when secrets called for instant reference, ahs,
and has, have beens and professed to follow sigh-signs
and wonder if we ever learns, as we learn once more,
evermore, is the cultural equivalent of infinity, and beyond.
A new perspective, less likely to get away from a kind of poetic purpose life offers to those enthralled by mindlessness serving the role of mindfullness.
Each reader effects the joy that powers all poetry and most songs,
thus opera... the works, the gears and levers and axels in life, turn on a dime.
