As a Seed begets a forest,
so a Lie begets Nations.
Truth blinds, Freedom enslaves,
Wisdom, foolishness, and Money, real.
The poor in spirit is blessed
But the world calls it depression.

Cain killed Abel, for Abel was favoured.
Losers need losers, for then nobody wins.
Rather a robber be king, and all be robbed.
The mark, a small price to despise the favoured.
Why Trump? Because *******! That’s why.

Water,
             I am,
             contained and
             compartmentalised in

Earth,
             of self similar structures
             with fractal dimensions
             at various scales,
             from the unseen cells
             to the whole person, that I am;
             and

Air,
             permeates all of me,
             constantly cycling, in and out,
             the breathe of life,
             in the blood.

But where is the Fire?

Corgi, walking man, stopped where I sat.
Climbed onto me, and sat in my laps.
Man apologised, but corgi unmoved.
Only after enough scratches, and a goodbye,
did it resumed walking the man.

I'm a 40% aqueous solution of earth
Water from below and
Water from above the firmament
Contained and compartmentalised
In self similar structures at various scales
From the unseen to the one you see as me.

Disciplined with life’s goals, but lauding the journey the more important.

Goals, focused and carefully chosen: the way rigidly planned and marked: milestoned and measured.

Socially supported, to soothe wounded hands and lift weary feet; justified pleasures in righteous social schadenfreude, as goads to keep and help deviants in their Chosen Ways.

So much fear in the whims of the seductive winds: shunning strange shores, sallying strong and bold, with sendoffs and fanfare, into the wilderness, just beyond your garden’s walls.

We cannot see what we cannot see. As truths are inaccessible to reasons, so wisdom, unsearchable. And who knows if the unknowable fickle winds is for or against us.

When the wind blows, persistent, strong and consistent, even to the Moon is without doubt. Then the winds died.

Your boat absolutely still, your sail limp and lifeless; not a ripple from horizon to horizon, not a sympathetic cloud in the brazen blue sky. The food’s out, the water’s low, a day or two, at most.

Sun shines impartial with no fear nor favor, as blindfolded Justice dispensing justice. Nights, frigidly cold, and time ceased.

The journey will always be: goal or no goals, socially supported or as a lone nomad: the wind blows, always and irresistibly, never futile. Walking in fear and trembling the only wise, for all else, futility.