People, who have a lot of things use them, and have a lot of things still left over.
People, who, have a few things, use them, and have no left over’s.
People, who have no things, who seek many things, end up using only a few things, and, have nothing left over.
All, who have things, become one thing.
My things, became empty from use, They were dug from the earth, and made in a factory through creation, imagination and mistakes. Useless now, worn, exchanged, or sat on a flea market table where even gypsies refused to take are now ready to be disposed of— on this pleasant day, at the New Hampton dump, at 12:15 P M. on a bright and sunny Saturday.
Is a ghost without identity; that seeks peaceful universal assimilation?
Those who capture other’s souls of Faith, caged in hate or repression, have honed their zeal
To inflict retribution as righteous judgment, on all “un-holy” dissidents.
Unable for their hearts to control their tongue or their scourge.
Love’s prerequisite of understanding, dampens volatile gun powder
And buries the sword of hate on the path to Nirvana, Olam Ha-Ba, Heaven, and Jannah …
Or any place else that is soft enough to dig with your hands, under loves direction, to bury your hate
wrapped in your inability to leave it alone. Silent until you truly understand.
(Having found on that path, without harm, a pure gentle human heart melted in living flesh
That had no eyes, nor memory, floating freely, Holy above the intellect in senses
without shame, I found myself without anything, for my Love, to have to explain.)
“In the universal silence of nature and in the calm of the senses the immortal spirit’s hidden faculty of knowledge speaks an ineffable language and gives [us] undeveloped concepts, which are indeed felt, but do not let themselves be described.” Immanuel Kant
It has always been hard for me to describe the birth and the growth of three sons. They, became so entwined in my birth, that all I could do was to enjoy their wrapping around me; until we let each other go, with love unharmed.