True Beauty

Why thy ever so beautiful blossom fall to thy pitiful dirt to dance with vermin. Rain and wind sheds them with disregard. They laugh or cry as they twinkle into the night. Getting stuck into our hair. Holding on for a moment of true beauty. For a moment of truth justifies all time. Flowers wither, and beauty fades. Nature asks to take away what is naturally beautiful to be enjoyed for a moment.

But why cant beauty last forever? In that moment of beauty there stands the awe to which we succumb to. It’s a standstill in time and we are there gazing at it for as long as we possibly can. For its truth and at that moment, truth could be worth a million years, for truth is true beauty. In a time where we are shamed by falsehood we rarely have a moment of truth to relate too. When that time comes and then goes we are dazed in the true light of beauty…

Prayer 74

With intriguing unison we stand and think of your holy name. Contemplating defense for your tempered wrath. Summon high and call from the depth. Think of the truth you called to rest. You expect the best when we have none to give. Enveloped in mysteries, with no clue of it. There is nothing with your grandeur and no way to explain you. Even with a million years and a million hints we still wont be able to. There is no word to expound; it is just but a limitation.

We can’t draw you, express you, or explaining you. You are attained, being the unattainable. You are unlimited, by your limitedness. God answers us in a time of despair for we may continue to serve you. For our minds are confused, open our eyes and hearts. That is the only way to value in our insanity. We’ve created walls for our echoes. Built lives to destroy with ponder. May you rebuild it back to unite our minds and heart, forever god I say Amen.

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A man argues with that which upsets him most. Because a person must revolt with what he believed. As dusk dawns and the flowers wither we are left with none but our thoughts. Ponder of what were a small grain of dust and sand amongst a vast ocean of troubled dreams. We should not flow and sway with the uncalculated wave of misfortune unsure of its tide and its rip far stronger then we can fathom until we are left on a desolate wasteland of unfinished plans.

If we so but had the power to fight the wind of change and become what we were to be. Forest die and animals savage but that has no say in the life of god. Flower of hope which forever sprouts new love and courage.

If we could grasp on the ropes of our heart and just stare into the eyes of what was a ray of our salvation. The spiral tunnels of misfortune always lead itself to the right place. For the night end we all puzzle to fit that what we cant answer. If we could just some way fit in with our surroundings and not caged in figment of enslavement. To our body and mind, free yourself of the yoke of deception and falsehood.