Education Gives Luster to Motherland

Wise education, vital breath
Inspires an enchanting virtue;
She puts the Country in the lofty seat
Of endless glory, of dazzling glow,
And just as the gentle aura's puff
Do brighten the perfumed flower's hue:
So education with a wise, guiding hand,
A benefactress, exalts the human band.

Man's placid repose and earthly life
To education he dedicates
Because of her, art and science are born
Man; and as from the high mount above
The pure rivulet flows, undulates,
So education beyond measure
Gives the Country tranquility secure.

Where wise education raises a throne
Sprightly youth are invigorated,
Who with firm stand error they subdue
And with noble ideas are exalted;
It breaks immortality's neck,
Contemptible crime before it is halted:
It humbles barbarous nations
And it makes of savages champions.
And like the spring that nourishes
The plants, the bushes of the meads,
She goes on spilling her placid wealth,
And with kind eagerness she constantly feeds,
The river banks through which she slips,
And to beautiful nature all she concedes,
So whoever procures education wise
Until the height of honor may rise.

From her lips the waters crystalline
Gush forth without end, of divine virtue,
And prudent doctrines of her faith
The forces weak of evil subdue,
That break apart like the whitish waves
That lash upon the motionless shoreline:
And to climb the heavenly ways the people
Do learn with her noble example.

In the wretched human beings' breast
The living flame of good she lights
The hands of criminal fierce she ties,
And fill the faithful hearts with delights,
Which seeks her secrets beneficent
And in the love for the good her breast she incites,
And it's th' education noble and pure
Of human life the balsam sure.

And like a rock that rises with pride
In the middle of the turbulent waves
When hurricane and fierce Notus roar
She disregards their fury and raves,
That weary of the horror great
So frightened calmly off they stave;
Such is one by wise education steered
He holds the Country's reins unconquered.
His achievements on sapphires are engraved;
The Country pays him a thousand honors;
For in the noble ******* of her sons
Virtue transplanted luxuriant flow'rs;
And in the love of good e'er disposed
Will see the lords and governors
The noble people with loyal venture
Christian education always procure.

And like the golden sun of the morn
Whose rays resplendent shedding gold,
And like fair aurora of gold and red
She overspreads her colors bold;
Such true education proudly gives
The pleasure of virtue to young and old
And she enlightens out Motherland dear
As she offers endless glow and luster.

"Here Made of Gone" for  Isabella Stewart Gardner
Lyrics By Randy Vera
Music By: Randy Vera and Anthony J. Resta  
http://bopnique.com/anthony-j-resta-and-randall-vera-finalists-john-lennon

LYRICS :
Vermeer, Rembrandt, Manet, Degas, from my three thousand year old Chinese KU, I toast you. 

Mrs. Jack, I am your Bronze Eagle. I cut the painting at the frame – thieves by any other name.

Mrs. Jack with handcuffs and *****, I overcame your walls. Your collection’s complete.
Titian's Europa still hangs. The mirror to my:

Piece de la resistance. I’m your creme de la creme. I’m the John with the Procures on the wall in Vermeer’s concert.
Here, made of gone. 

Mrs Jack, I’m your new William James. Through your kindness, you support me, in Dutch Room empty frames.
Like John Singer Sargent, I toil between your walls. I am Vermeer’s "corn flower blue," indescribable. 
The metaphysical: Known unknown!

St Patrick’s Day 1990, I’m in Boston in the Fenway. For my penance, I’ll go to Saint John’s, drop to my knees, and like you, scrub the tiles clean.

Titian's Europa still hangs, the mirror to my: piece de La resistance. I’m your creme de la creme. I’m the John with the Procures on the wall in Vermeer’s concert. Here made of gone. 

Where language fails that where art triumphs. The interloper between camps of reason and dreams. I’m an event not cognition. Like any event stored in canvas, paper, pen ,or ink.

Oh Mrs Jack I so love your "Head Band." I’m also a Redsox fan. I loved the Champagne and donuts, and thank you for the paintings.

963

A nearness to Tremendousness—
An Agony procures—
Affliction ranges Boundlessness—
Vicinity to Laws

Contentment’s quiet Suburb—
Affliction cannot stay
In Acres—Its Location
Is Illocality—

907

Till Death—is narrow Loving—
The scantest Heart extant
Will hold you till your privilege
Of Finiteness—be spent—

But He whose loss procures you
Such Destitution that
Your Life too abject for itself
Thenceforward imitate—

Until—Resemblance perfect—
Yourself, for His pursuit
Delight of Nature—abdicate—
Exhibit Love—somewhat—

As I lay dying from across the room, bleeding from across my heart.
I said I swear, I hope to die.
Didn't know you'd consummate my request.
With strained, staring eyes and with my last will I reach to you.
Back demolished, lungs collapsed, brow furrowed, hand imbrue with my A positive evolutionary force.
Drip.
And drip.
Hand, now algid, now violaceous.
Can't. Engage. Muscle memory. Rigidity.
My limbs are limp, my last sacrifice for you.
I never told you that I can see your soul, your aura.
In this very second, as I lay fixated on your glaring portals, your broken windows, I am the one who procures this victory.
Because even though my mortal being is becoming nullified at the expense of your hand...
It was me who broke your heart.
It was my touch that pirated your soul and you will die.
Your energy will never be able to speak another's name again.

final option: exit in sight
shall i walk this way?

rachel, eva and samuel being in the room
my tribewords for what i consider family

final option: exit in sight
shall i walk this way?

while you are remaining in this room of memories
while samuel is crying
while eva is sobbing
rachel - dem kid's mother - being desperate

you know what rachel?
we are akin to each other
like characters in sentences:
dots

unlike the undertones of
exclamation marks and exclamation points

samuel is crying
eva is sobbing
cause you guys are in another city
far away

you sent me a message:
"i have to protect the children"

tell me:

from whom?
from what?

estimate: how many fathers does a child have?
spell out how
man and woman
wife and husband

become able to defend and favor their
shadows lips and wishes

is there any meaning?
am i flaying my skin daily?
i am not a snake
i am darkness and light
like the rest of us
bizarre billions made of
languages moral values religions

do i have to skin myself daily?
does this have to mean even a bit?

i don't know bambina
but i am sensing that we are ONE:

blood boomerangs bound
boomerangs bound blood
blood bound and boomerangs

the devil cracked our bound
he grinned and said:
"my lost son i am
looking at you: a man full of doubts

ain't no thang though
i am confirming on oath:
i will be getting rid of your doubts
colorfully
they will be gone

we just need a gimmick

hereby i am passing on the golden goblet to you
there is some stuff in it
to be found in lies and magic"


young jeezy (me ok)

harold hunter (kids, larry clark)

falco (rock me amadeus)

ali (mobster)

dmx (my ******)

fassbender (angst essen seele auf, in englisch: fear eats up your soul)

robin williams (comedian?)

benjamin von stuckrad-barre (writer and addict)

whitney houston (who was really crying?)

angelina jolie (in the land of milk and honey)

sigmund freud (will you lead me to the origins of golem?)


they daily drank from the goblet
the list of my friends is long and enduring

some of 'em died
some continued to live
some decayed with numb limbs
in musty chambers
closed curtains

glossing ghosts above the head of
west indian archie
once a powerful gangster now a broke burnout

but this is one of many countless chapters
my son
ain't we good together boy?

i am confirming on oath:
i will be getting rid of your doubts
colorfully
they will be gone

successful people drink from the goblet;
they are in charge of their lifes
my son

the golden goblet is like heat in the coldness
the golden goblet is like cooling down in the heat of the desert

water
purity
nature and leaves
chemistry and magic

my friends are global
my friends are cosmopolits
by the time some lose the "r" on their path:
they become fiends

but this is one of many countless chapters
my son
ain't we good together boy?

all cultures
all religions
all languages

all my friends love the golden goblet
more than themselves
cause the golden goblet procures them

dear deception

all my friends don't love themselves anymore
but the golden goblet
all my friends don't love themselves anymore
but the golden goblet

devils hang out beyond rehab centres
they listen to the
conversations of addicts
they want to figure out their weaknesses
analyze and exploit them

devil flapped his arms
high up in the skies
cheating god's position
between trees and snowwhite castles in bavaria a state of germany

while the devil was listening to the addicts he held
the golden goblet under the moon's reflections thereupon

the golden goblet was ablazed with light
like a constellation superior to the earthly ghosts of weakness
the golden goblet sparkled

the addicts perceived it
as children perceive candy
as teenagers perceive the defeatable supremacy of grown-ups

they perceived the sparkling
as if you were listening to your favourite song

addiction is emotional
addiction is the blind quest for meaning

the golden goblet twinkled over the roofs of the bavarian rehab centre
and one of the addicts a young woman
looked up into the blackness of heaven
frankly speaking it was sparkling everywhere

the woman suddenly thought:
i have twins
i worked as a *******
i am not permitted to see my kids

in deliverances she spoke:
"i was a *****"
"i have twins"
"i order 'em precious clothes"

a sheen coming from the devil's
pupil
as she expressed her fate

she sighed and said:
"nut doc give me prescription... first i
don't wanna take 'em ***** though
they called (...)
and (...)
and (...)
and (...)

after slinging though" she proceeded with a shivering voice
" my feeling like gold"

her mouth opened widely as if she was hungry
golden sheen

a darkred eyebrow
vibrating ******
bald head full of

holes scars blood

since the beginning of memorizing
devil has been breeding horror:

not to mention the death of g.t.
leaving parents in a daze

not to mention the death of a.k.
leaving siblings in a daze

not to mention when a mother passed away: t.z.
leaving children in a daze

since day one devil has been embroiled in torment
born from the fight of brightness and night
the creature awoke

only in darkness
hidden by the star's twilight
beyond distances
we recognize him

when he is far away from us
like glorified past
on earth though
he embodies the shape of human beings
to be between us
to expose our weaknesses
that's his guzzling his brew and his - blessing

our failing strenghtens him
he be muscle

our illness strenghtens him
he be tizzop

Time sits slouched,
Whisky supped from a shoe.
Space takes his place,
Beard smothered in brew.
Hope sprawls eternal,
Smiles, on the face of the few.
The night is masked,
Casked honey dew.

Amber obscures,
Procures,
Distorts the view.
Glazed by a hazy
Feint green plume.
Time takes a sip from
Weathered worn out shoe.
As space wipes his face
Hope yawns on que.
The night is released,
At least for now, until
The fall of the morning dew.

Dedicated to Eva and a southern mother
“  I grow weary at times but having my mother’s spirit, I always bounce back”

Through the coldest chill her voice reaches with the warmest comfort in all the vastness that life
Can be she is and always will be the central anchor of life a spirit devoid of all misrepresentation
Love’s most endearing and all enduring I don’t recall a natural physical monument that exists but
It could never stand or grace such a rarefied place that already abides in our spirit our soul the
Almost unlimited mind pays her homage if you checked and ran back to the root of our actions
You would see her precious face eyes glowing with pride at your accomplishments her influence
Is always present like a deep pool of the richest wisdom it surges when you face difficulty or
Know stress without remedy not to leave father out she is the buttress the support beams in all of
His successes his central nerve center tenderness ever winds through his heart and soul and sets
Controls on his actions that would be harder and make life predictably harder she pardons and is
The enabler for him to be a little boy at times that is his refreshing and procures lost magic and
Wonder that is drained by the demands of life her life is a costly one no one else would ever go
To the lengths she goes to they might go but it would be with the complaint this is too hard and
Question is it really worth it she knows the answer to that question there is no greater reward
Than Being the well spring the unending fount that spills and thrills the little ones she brought
Into The world no matter what their ages are and when her earthy sojourn is complete and she
Must cross the chilly waters of the Jordon her limitations now at an end her free and unrestrained
And enlarged noble spirit is in part like the prophet when his guide and enabler was taken he
Received a double portion of his spirit first you have mother naturally that is awesome
Unbelievable then when her earthy duties are over she goes to her reward and lo and behold you
Get her back but twice what you knew before her insights flash in your mind her strength surges
Through your tired and weak body you see ahead with limited sight she is standing on mountain
Tops looking at vistas that create hope from great turbulence of wind that spans the globe and the
Universe taking its beginning from His throne yes she does trim its arrival in your life because its
Two strong for earthy climes it comes just at the right speed enough to make the trees put on a
Glorious show as they twist and bend its musical it’s just fast enough to please and not be scary
That profound ease that slips into your thoughts she has come to rehearse some delightful aspect
She has learned it is gripping it is tinged in mystery so you will long for the knowing it provides
Yes I’m thinking of mother Perry and mother Merrifield as a child I was a thief I stole from these  
Precious mother’s needs that I so needed there are many more that are too many to mention
enjoy Your Treasure if she is present or absent

“She who has infused every minute of my day,
Hastens through titillating my endorphins.
Absconded hiding within myself,  
As blue crystals glaring teeter in the sea,

As we sanction the reticence of ardor,
While the sea eradicates its perennial effigy,
As infinite cascades eradicate beneath us,
As the water stride procures to the sandy shore,

Where the waves shatter on unsettled rocks,
As once again the clear light bursts as sun sets,
Enmeshed in a fabric of palpable vibrant colors,
Portrayed as that of a burlesque plumeria of infinites,                  

The plumeria burst of aureoles immortal love,
Unyielding its pedals as the devouring sea rotates,
Will ephemeral demise procure in the deep blue sea?
Over its blue pedaled face an astringent frown,

We have embarked on a promenade of love my dear,
I now stand before you no longer with emptiness,
Only perennial affection that you are mine and I yours,
       In our Aureoles of Plumeria”  
By AG 03/10/2018 ©

The totality of a stare, their for changing life's bitter holds
My theory that we all are seekers is an ex-stressor of  unwitting changes
voiceless changing clanging colds
Now a life this life has execrated all of your dreams
You and I cure the ice    to satisfy the demons the night   but it grows warmer I warn thee
Devious power and burning nights.. who is of the dead?
Devious powers all is quite right..  I am inside your head
Uncalled for searing this justice holy tower you're turret nare an arrow sent
And when the future holds  against our bonds untold a world with forms reached out only to allow an ever changing destiny..
Then I shall cry out a theory for them a theory untold
Devious fires powers of the night Don't question the order do as your told
Fleece of the stripeless tiger nears telling all of us of the powers of doom
and your life is speaking slashing shshsh turn to dust soon you'll be through
If again you make this plea don't try to be the same as the one who turned to me
For within you are gone and in your mind we are all keepers but this is not wrong
I am turned putrid and this procures the storm
unworthy yet with this answer land  will fall soon and shed this life for demons and right   hurt eyes skin  lips and all
Devious powers burning in the nights of the undead
You called out the scarring the twist of the unsent
Then I shall cry out a theory for them a theory untold
Devious fires powers of the night Don't question the order do as your told
Played by the fame then went a force of Satans wings ornate of diamonds and led
When the theory of theories is finally told the solving and the puzzle is an ultimate theory untold
Drafting and waning your demeanor a field of wrought with a killing and blight
Into a dark horizon one hand awakens as certainty puts up a fight
Then I shall cry out doubting you'd ever listen to me
Then I'd cry for us as the devout for the theories untold is ever our destiny
Then I shall cry out for a theory for them a theory untold
Devious fires powers of the night Don't question the order do as your told

Fumbling through his pockets
Sore fingers grasping wildly
He procures his kerchief
Dabs the edges, pats them dry

And the wind blows softly
Ruffles her strong hair
Tossed waves of auburn
Gentle to see

Sun-lit skin, gilded bold
Broken never, smoothness
Fashioned hands, slender fingers
Burgundy eyes, deep and deeper

And the old form sat ragged
Tears spilling onto yellowed photos
"I'll see you soon, I'll see you soon,
My young, young love."

Of course this poem procures no great wonderment
nor does it produce any invoice that would bring heat,
to the mind of the reader, nor from the placement
of ink from the printer.

Of course it does produce itself from form
from form-ness of itself in itself
but brings no cure and no ills, it just is ‘being ‘

That course is never truer or less of a test
when there is no phenomena of its appearance,

Of Course it has none

There's a house where the world
has stopped dialing...
But a rotary phone, that
has my number.
and plunders my unavailable
daily.

We blink like opening a mystery.
But we never  brush the canvas
of any inspiration.
we gather in the fields of our golden jokes
and each the other are about
how nothing is the same that now
we see what eyes deny
jellyfish
and cotton
swabs.

but there's trees and eggs.
it's nothing how we remember
love and hate.
slow things are voices to recall.
but the matter of their wisdom
is bleach and peaches.
and perhaps a flightless
squab.

II

to endure is to be a living thing.
and to love is to die more
willingly.

but nothing procures the reality
like a dream.... and we cluster
precisely where we diffuse
Unkindly.

III

Let us walk where the treasures march
in impoverished enmity. but know
the different things that sanity
conspires to reveal.
we can be madcap and foreign
to our native selves -
but never once be alien
to what it means
in hell.

IV

heaven is a kind of grace that forgets you.
and trees and eggs
are something else
entirely

despite you.

“May I rest again with her in my chimera of the night?  
My pain of such love will subside with my reverie,
Fervor and despair seem to endeavor pertinent restlessness,
Night procures a mystical quintessence to the heart and soul,

Exotic to me are all the rationale as to why you belong,
Comatose of you beside me whether in body or soul,
May music once again make my eviscerated soul dance?
Only you will live in my dreams as they drift me away,

All that is reticent in life and in our annals of time as one,
We shall go over the water of time in the shadows of travel,  
As we travel through the shadows with neither sun or moon,
An unholy anointing of our least desirable possessions,

At night the world the wind will spin out their destiny,
The seclusion of mountain peaks veers ever so slightly,
Mountain peaks where alleviation is all that is heard,
Empty trees conveyed acclivous and less oceans of brine,

My soul seeks solitude and the mystical perplexity of aspiration,
Space stars poetry in this place the moon and ebony vapors,
These are the copious words of a poet has lost love of soul,
I can only caress the thought of her in my acclivious dreams”
By Andrew Guzaldo 1/09/2019 ©

For fire's spirit lurking in the church,
and by the ash beneath you, once alive,
Awakening the warmth within the birch,
chaos herself is driven to survive.
The winds of change bring blues and golds about,
setting sun breaks day and shifts to pink.
The ocean drowning, and I, a drought,
The blackened paper, breathing in the ink.
The mirror warps, and with it time is slowed,
A moment's lifetime screams, deflates, and dies.
Aquatic **** procures the sword, bestowed,
and with it clicks the clockwork toward demise.
I rise, I fall, I move from foot to foot,
The bells will beat the flames, and I, to soot.

There was a time that I was unfilled
searched and dropped in an ocean*
in the deep water the last hope lost
bombs exploded and shells bursted
the whole of me was decanted
a remnant that seems muted
but one that's alive and lasting

There was a time that I was waiting
to be seen, loved, deserved and adored
like the lentil sat in the water to sprout
and the state withered, lowly swallowed
the brokenness of it ached, stakes gone
the bets were a loss drained on the grounds
as the escalator crept it's way up

There is moment in the present day
where the awoken me is a desire
a goal to believe within my depths
touching the instincts and procures
not hurt and not wanting to believe
neither relying on the adoration to sate
*as the state of lone licked all the tears

" I aggregate to you of all that is relevant in my life,
I gild to love you as if you were sweet roses or gemstones,
Effulgence love of mine was she as sure as the moon above,
I love you as certain somber things are in need of love,

As ships of all sizes sail away to their distant shores enclave
Earthly we live up to life is sometimes encumbered by love,
No matter how hard winds brandish my perplexed soul,
Every breath I take will be a memory of my effulgence of her,

I love her without knowing how or where she might be,
I love her virtuously without elaboration or peace of mind,
There always will remain a secret adumbration in our souls
That secret window that will aggregate effulgence of love,

Cataclysm of passion a defense procures to my sensibilities,
I love you as the flowers we await for the spring to blossom,
Solid fragrance within ferries in itself the light of hidden flowers,
I must not give way to despondency of hydrophobia of your love,
But only to the effulgence of mine love thereof towards thee”
By Andrew Guzaldo 05/05/2019 ©

In the highest conflagration my of solitude,  
She entered the room apprehended by such beauty,
I felt a gravitational force of our souls,
Force I had not heard from science or lairs of books read,

Of course I began to signal her with my eyes,
Moving like radar locked on,
So distant yet so close her eyes imply in pain,
That procures the inner sanctum of her heart,

As that of butterfly she sits not afar off from me,
Ah I notice a glance procure every so often,
Oh the body of excellence the skin of papal host,
Does she know that I feel alive again or,

Will I be the one to say and to make her solitude?
Deep dark eyes of romp sadness befall upon my heart,
Your slender body bares tenderness in its silence,
The gracefulness of her movement she lives in my mind,

As I close my eyes in daze as a product of,
Another dimension,
As her sadness alludes to my soul and heart,
Everything I envisioned spoke of love,

A conflagration of solitude we call Love,
The unexplained antipathy of all is LOVE”
By A.G. 03/2018

“We yearned for each other in another dialect,
Glancing at words we could hardly read,
But it didn’t matter our ardor was alive,
And as neat as can be amidst each line,  

Boundary of chats were for our eyes only,
Where no one but us could discern,
As on the horizon appears the realm,
Then the simmering shadow procures,
      
Welkin above now along with the ocean wall tide,
As welkin and umbra erupt in the crash,
The brisk aurora erode the crashing blue tide waves,
Now arrives in total darkness as the tide subdues,

As the sea cannot exist without its crackling salts,
Neither can I exist with a breach of your love,
I am like a simple sea shell surrounded by an ocean,
An ocean of your love in silent slender artistic form,

She is the amorous in my spirit and I the gallantry,
Never to be swept away by an imbrued heart”
  By AG 05/01/2018 ©

Everything is never ending
Like the love I don’t have for you
The residue of my broken heart
Gently resides of the palms of another
The other,
Who doesn’t have the ability to vision the gift my heart procures.
The other,
Who is captivated with the lust she radiates
The other,
Who will settle for a processed heart rather than the rawness mine bears  
The other,
Who doesn’t even appreciate the spelling of my name.
For a moment I thought,
Why give my heart to the blind one
After all maybe somethings have an ending
Maybe something that was once folded and tucked away could be dusted
That moment has become a reality

"Words from her are lucent to my drab,
She sees the shade of dun in my eyes,
It's her that makes my aura once again,
She procures all of the fears I have had,

The waves in my life were ever so halcyon,
She know how many times I’ve lamented,
And now has filled all my islets from darkness,  
Her proficient love has made me unabridged,

I was firstly resistant to her gentle touch,    
Her beauty piqued at my heart and soul,
She held me softly yet intensely,
Looking into her deep dark alluring eyes,

I was ever so quickly enthralled to her,
As her hand gently touches me with fervor,
We  deliquesced into each other’s arms,
Bequeathed we gave with complete dalliance"
By A. Guzaldo 07/05/2018 ©

“As days abates the slow moon climbs,
Fate bathes clear from your submerging mind,
My dull islet inspires me to write my best,
Midnight rendezvous ensuing awful dreams  

Those awful dreams of one’s life and travails,  
I plant anew in the vanishing of your absence,  
All can be forgotten of travesty’s that followed,
As I easily compare her to a light stardust,

Traipse of her invading my mind of that day,
Thinking of your prompt nobility fills my days.
My love for you is of a dedicated scantling.
Our heated toasts the past frolics of seasons,

Acclivitous summer in the sleepy hollows,
Perhaps the gulfs will wash us down stream,
As our prudence labor of love procures slowly,    
Subdue my rugged ways useful and good,

As mountains reflected in the crystalline waters,
We can only correspond with Immutable change,
Our truths can live with right and wrong or hillocks,
Giving me strength ***** against a sense of hate,

My metaphysical poetry has helped me through this,
As her acclivitous tryst of vigor flows like tides,
Into my blood”

“By Andrew Guzaldo © 07/04/2020 Posted HP #191

On the road to Bimington there’s a sign
I don’t know why it was put there
It just says « stay strong »
I suppose it’s meant for everyone
But it seems to resonate so personally
It just lingers there
With nowhere else to go
but into people’s minds
so they can cope with life and carry on

On the road to Bimington there’s a lake
that glistens in the morning sun
and never fails to catch the eye
of anyone who passes by
whether by chance or by design
in whatever mood or state of mind
All are attracted to the glittering light
that adorns the pristine water
and reveals the secrets within

On the road to Bimington there’s a cottage
where an old woman sits in her garden at dawn
praying it may seem, but without words
She’s there but very much elsewhere
There are flowers and birds all around her
that appear to be imparadised by her presence
Their colours and forms are exalted
Their fragrance and song are sublime
and their graceful chorus never seems to end

On the road to Bimington there are woods
Where a heedful doe peeps out from behind trees
and caresses your heart with her large, soft eyes
She never ventures to emerge until you’re gone
but at a distance you can contemplate her beauty
and the peace that she procures
The woods are graced by her presence
The air is blessed by her bleating
and souls are warmed by her gentleness

I haven’t been to Bimington of late
but I remember lots of furrowed brows and clenched jaws
People there just seem to plod through life
Perhaps that’s why someone put the sign on the road
If only they would venture out of their confinement
and journey on the road that leads to their abode
They could experience the universe as it truly is
and be replenished with all they will ever need
to « stay strong »