Cosmic Comprehension

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
About war, beauty, cruelty and our never ending quest to find

Submitted: January 17, 2007

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Submitted: January 17, 2007

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The order of the seasons are so systemic, the divider of constantly renewed existence, always and totally in submitance to the bound laws of limits.
The desires of the fable of which we know as beauty, Is only for the youths concession of purity.
The corruption of innocents brought upon by desires stirred by the crafts of vision.
A nature of selfishness, with hands dealt at random to it's subservient creations, each in search of it's partner to procreate in the pastures.
Becoming mother and father while watching light fade to dark, before their only relevant tenths becomes that of the past from here and forever after, until their breath is their last.
Ones evolving from the raw magic of sex and lust to the blood spilled from the cuts of defeat, or being one surrendering to the cruelty of time, and the inevitability of returning to plateau of unequivocal spirits, never bound to have their chance of showing their change that was grown in the revelations in death of a will to advance, and their one physical chance forgone now and remains as dust inseparable amongst the elements of the crust.
From the rush of being elite, to ones crushing of belief, what was once intrigue is now only the conceding to ever crumbling dreams, the thoughts of what could of been and what will never be, its the reality for all, the balance forever shifting through rises and falls.
Mother nature gifts life and sentences death, clouding our sight to make us blind, singing in our ears to make us deaf, and instating lust for the counter form of life, only to install ambition and drive for our working towards the something we are ultimately denied.
Once this is realized then we should never cry, we should know now there will never be enough to fulfill our addiction and desire of contempt.
We should only be amused with the world, and always hold love for the material out of reach.
For the nature of the enlightened heart is delivered by the cosmic tides of which we should never wish for it's comprehension, for the spirit and the conscious are something quite separate.
We will follow it's paths, and  it's will shall always remain unquestioned and uncontested


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