Member Contribution Five

Paradigm Shift QUEST FOR BEING. . .

QUEST FOR BEING

the long awaited sequel to "Odyssey of Heart" under Poetic Works

Durandus von Meissen

It's better to linger silently upon humility

and all that force of life

than preach of worlds to come

or down the world with curses

which some cruel wench may wish

or other wizen mind may invent

tending their own vengeance

and, pending all upon their thought

which, just a thought

must expire, expiring themselves.

Rather, deeper aspiration speaks

more silent than the claims of most

yet more insistent

and more sure upon the heart

wandering yet, though not dismayed

with more interest than learning's quest-

a sense of life

which mothers know

and fathers wish

in hope of family.

Such fruit of hoping yet may prove

a great tomorrow

not of scholars, but born to unify

the siblings of heaven itself

though born of earth

still groaning, forever true

though dropping ageless tears

a golden child

too much of sorrow

yet forborne in ways of loss

to catch, for all, the one in each.

Truth and Life, O, help us…

such pain of hope has let loose

the heart of a thousand generations!

So is made the temple of Life

as living soul bows down to loss

yet not for loss

but for the proof and joy

in that the Heart is born...

an ancient, knowing sadness

more true to all than anyone can speak

still teetering upon the verge of vengeance

but tiding time and weeping, prays-

Come, darlings...kiss my bloodied brow

and wipe clean the dregs of reeling;

drink up the Memory and strike off

all sense of shame...

alone allow what belongs between each

the shared loss and agony

of Experience, and embrace

the sacred rain of ageless tears!

Spontaneous and Free is-

a proving which must mend

b oth day and night upon the sight

c onfounding what was careless wrought

d rawn from the tyrant powers, too boasting made

e ndearing yet to sorrow, whose way no way upgirds

f omenting all, but broke upon the world its fate

g roaning still for the nether part

h eighing kindly still to meet our own

i f but to drain the vats of seeming

j ustly disposed to gulp down both sun and moon

k indred of gods in consummation, inward born

l ately shown for every outward estimation

m ore clearly known

n odding upon the whispered visitors'

o rienting magnets of life and quintessential worth

p erfected among the tearful and

q uick innervated by the salty dew, ever

r emembering what cannot be forgot while

s imply pleasing that which ever stands

t oo conscious among the templed

u niverse of thought

v ery life

w hose root upon the mountains

'x emplifies

why we must speak as such and

z ero in on what concerns us most.

So, life is too rich

than to settle upon honey

and ever dream peaches and cream

but sometimes convulses

in shock of conflict

worthily spent

for wreck of boasted idols

or, flaming upon perverse towers

with bridled rage of pure despite

lays waste the blatant folly

and drives home the wretched crews

to lick up the dust

their idiocy

in dismay at Force inspired

which, sudden bearing

and more subtly spent

is gone again in willows' whispering…

wind-born kin of faultless knowing

who are no bit denied of might

nor yet restrained

by temptations of the feathered beds

and elbow cushions of worthless privilege

and self-explained sophistication

that careless empty men and women

so much cherish.

Still, hushed melodies soft intone the spheres

and wend the avenues of thought

unespied by phantoms the worldly admires

but subtly encompassing the times

imbues the scales of being

and tinctures in disguise

like a thief in the night

such dross the vulgar revel by

and, faithfully plucking on the chords

sends shivers on the veins

and secret thunder on the plane

waking sleepers' dream

more gentle than Selene

betrothing honesty to sight

and brightness for the dark of night

her darling young

for true embrace

in quest of generation

and the goal that Aeons willed

for prospect

mining the soundless leagues

in brood of vision

a timeless Hope

and Calcined spirit-

Golden Child!

Eureka!!!

It is Prophesy

in simile of Event

which Mythos wrought

by Cipher

but which yet

are Knots too tied

and sealed in Book of Holy

whose worthy Source

Life still incubates

and as from ash

then hatching

roars up in awful splendor

Gold and Ruby hewed

the flashing dignities

to mount the scales of living Hosts

from pole to pole

leap upon the Air

letting rain down

the sacred tears

which, falling on the Earth

makes bloom the sacred Flower

that pure intent may be known

and from whose leaves

restores the Nations.

Some greater Hosts claim

and stake out their posts

in capture of the fleeing hordes

who, loosed from chained folly

and croaking 'gainst the Sun

belch forth from the Abyss

their humid ranks...

and these, let fly upon the Field

like Moses once let fly on Egypt

to stench what is reserved

for the pristine Fold?

I think not!

Rather, the Net is strung

which wove of Fate

keeps taught the Limits

while lets fly

the Huntress' arrows

or her sibling's darts

in proof of war for some

by gutted shells of Neptune's flees

or pipes of Pan

the Shepherd's melodies

tuning the spheres

whose Gates and double doors

swings wide for garnering

and unlocked, scrolls up the Veil

in awe of wonder

rendering open view

of sacred Towers

glistening Ephod

and garb of the New City

uncloven Stone

whose rest upon our Footstool

then renewed

is the Goal, no less the Work!

Some spoke lately

upon a central, Human core

which rightly known is

a Cup of knowing

for cutting time

and Scythe, in view of Hera's eye

waved high upon Horizon

that sets the Orient in contest

no bit dismayed

by tempting lusts

of tempting minds

more set on Honor

and Angling Nemesis.

Such eyes as see

weep more drops of tear

than Oceanus tells of rushing Water

or the Air lets wend

in wealth of blasting strength

but, seeing still

lights up a Fire

and gives warmth

upon the darling bud

which Earth must nourish

well accepted by her kin

and favoring their Process

bares out the Plain

in plow of Force

whose greedy wish

makes torrent in the way

circumspection

whistling and knowing born.

Some think it fine to speak of

Hermetic art

or call Hermes Lord

but leave vacant the elders

and disparage those

whose patience does not care

for Caverned men

nor would descend

to light on Plato's cave

nor much extend

to help the shadowed world

whose way

is all of folly

but which ancient ken

have gave of Fire;

still they know

what has been left

and what is kept

of sacred worth

too much withdrawn

till now

when Pluto's shrine

too full of frogs

and rusted Institutions

must belch the treasure

and let loose

on ancient groves

what some were satisfied

to leave rest in Forgetfulness.

Siblings all, such elders

though not untended, Time

nor Fate, but worked together

and binding Nets

in every post, earlier laid down

pulled taught, by Right

what Circumspection knew

when first the drunken fool

made Chaos on the world

and mad lust

upon the sacred pools

offended Wisdom

and so sowed

the wasting ways of men

and grief-filled History.

No escape now

not for the Nordic fish

whose greed of clever fame laid down

the Summer of the gods

in full deceit of cunning

nor for the barking clans

whose face

has front upon the Sun and Moon

and has made

a desperation for the ancient boundaries.

They were mere Vessel once

the secret heroes

worked by the simple

and held near under the Air

but now are opened up

and no more contained

in Earthen inspiration

thrown amidst the Shadow

yet held near

in Care of true foreknowing

directing still by purest will

what cornered wish may perform

or, turning on the spheres

yet prove

though for the worthwhile fury

their compassed memory must say-

turn back again…

whispering upon the lesser

its tail

casting down

where such must fail

and, in face of revelation

face what it has haunted

in ages of the noble

no more immature

not like times past

when it was easy

to lay waste

like weeping widows

their orphaned kind

but grown in stature of tears

and waxed strong with sorrow

match every bit of pain

that wickedness may invent

or inspire

among the mortal fellows

whom Earth has born

but not informed of Truth

cast off

like figs from unripe trees

shook by torrent winds

in pride of self...

though others known

in quickening

raised fast upon their birth

to light

braving the Sun

in torment of the fire

still wishing upon grace

and proven to endure

woke the Aeons

and embraced

Nature’s sacred Dream!

‘Mental parameter’

accusers said

was test of Person

and forbade Life

admitting Lies to Counsel.

As Life was not so clever

nor cared for such dissembling

to offer false advise

among fools, none knew

what proof of knowing

performs for the living

but all were left to guessing

as Time wends forth Mystery

and Nature lets loose

Example of Fame, unannounced.

Something worthy of speech

or better intending, dove deeper

and rooted out a principle of seeming

thrown upon the mind and

abused among the fools for interpretation

at last reformed to Identity

what all the innocent maintains.

It may be Tincture sought

when insistence of thought contends;

it may be Folly, wrought

on nothing which the heart may lend;

it may be Wisdom spoke

when all is cast upon the void

or what pending Furies wrote

in semblance of the gods, annoyed!

What ever it is, the mind may guess

and turning to admire

find nothing wherewith more to bless

and finding self, expire.

Play then such games with Fate

O Man, and boast upon the Lore

of Knowing, yet insatiate

for seekers and the carping bore!

Unsatisfied, the yawning Dark

gulps down in dreams the wayling

or seeking our Demeter's Lark

hoots and howls, the Ages raging;

though nothing of the Line, foredrawn

keeps wanderers from peeping

or bobbing on the form of Dawn

save empty vessels, leaking;

but, born upon an empty Nest

the Phoenix rises to contend

and from the loss of every best

distills what light of Life intends.

Not wandering upon the Way

but in full sight of ancient bliss

it nurses still upon the Lay

of sacred Hearth and Eleus.

It is no bother

which knowing heart

has occupied of truth

and proven faith

whether matched

in care of worth

our simple thought

or soothing wishes

rose still and descends

in comfort of the seeing

or otherwise contends

for what in seeming has shown

of Family and Friends, believing.

Imp, imp

how’s the game

coddling the fledglings...

what now

of worth or fame

can be told of wandering?

Naked as the day, you bore

both folly and fecundating

holding up what secrets store-

caverned men and wondering.

One worth I know

Banshee screaming-

The Night in quest of Death

whose ancient darts

flies through the Aeons

and comes raging

as Fate upon the shaft

some Furies

better bent to Force

than Patriarchs can tell of Truth

or whose sibling

kept Pythia in thrall of Augury

and let loose Leviathan himself

torqued down upon the thought

and wrenched upon the Heart

such smashing as none forebears

but Justice in accommodation.

on string of cunning

Life wrenches down the line of thought

and is set

by Force of Heart

not too anxious upon proofs

but Science dismayed

in point of wonder

is lifted up in view of the palling age

by seeming or believing to

wrack the present world

and pretended knowing

with mental loss and waking Fact.

Mandala of shape

Geometry of thought

or braying asses

in pretense of men

wends a way

and slinks upon

like charmed serpents

or viper's snap

and lion's maw

the caverned corridors

and dens of men

some sophists secure

which truth may sooner knell

or by the better sense

renovate meaning

and perfectly contest

what most forgot

as some have need

but inward find their end

in trial of faith, every fear revealed.

Play, play

always play

or in the game of seeming

pray, pray

ever pray

for goal of Truth and learning.

Holy, holy, holy

the Angels fly upon the wing

wholly, wholly, wholly

their circumvention sings.

Dido wrought

and Ion snatched

the Sea, History raging-

what is Thought?

light your Match

and fierce the gods come flaming!

Rhymes are like the corned stakes

set in Compass of the field

but rhymes do not a poem make

nor cornered stakes a harvest yield.

Was it not said

Some Fiend of fire

would lead forth the Stars?

But he knows

that Saturn's grand pretense

in waking might of children

would lead forth the Fold

every bit of Moment spent

from then to thence

in contest of Event

which Patriarchy wished for

Tyranny, but was lost

in hope of conquest, who

once killed in murder

their own lovely daughters

thinking that

in guise of strength

their wooden horse of Ages

or warring King

might tempt from the Powers

some favor...

they were wrong

whose latter’s patience

now must be spent

in rage of smashing

or more complied among the Hosts

reply in grace to Fury

such as Wisdom invokes

the Seers' Arrow-

Twin-born kin

and renew what Prophesy and Augury once said

in Delphic hymn

of Gadfly learning-

Know Thyself

or be dead.

This, for such who cannot live

by what Life knows of pain

but still profess some faulted gain…

even if they said Isis

in craft of healing

they could not unlock

the treasured halls

that Nature embraces

more surely, more securely

than the fool falls backwards

upon their knees.

What Gate is sought by them

in quest of Health and Beauty

Wisdom somewhat spoke

and held enduring of the Past;

and so, they called the Poet down

and prey upon the word…

some note the care

and let resound

a sacred hope upon the world;

others, in their disguise

speak of want and worry

and kiss the dark of vacant skies

their history and lies and decadence

spills from mind, any thought relating

to invent new forms of folly

or banal comforts of scripted nobility

of worth for Humanity

believing they ordain

new generations of their wretched crew!

Tripped upon the bending light

they stumble in the known

and foster what their liberal invention

deemed right of wrong

by pretended doctors’ treasured tombs-

a little paradise of privilege

among the wayling host

who serve, insured by others, sacrilege

of wealth in gilded learning for the lost.

Three sisters stand

a token of awful sight-

mirrors in skirt of thought

that whispers on the wind

both peace for them once wronged

and frothing

hunted and the hunting

wanderers yet

under the trembling sky

embraced of night

but whose course

screams not for loss

but lauds the Hunt

in quest of the most Worthy...

more shouts of joy

than raging wiccans know

in cup of Hera

who have clutched

the reaping Scythe

and razed down

our stalks of folly...

blessed dance

of waywardness in mind

that rends the flesh

of pretended Titans

and drinks down

worthy Vengeance

seeping more

like mist upon the stones

our hope, blood-red memory

whose goat-shield of humble service past

made wrath of Gorgons

now to match the swaggering pride

that Patriarchy imposes

and ever proves

such as the drunk of self may do

and yet forgot

what gods may post

of Accusation;

more quick in net of knowing

for the brutal customs

than Privilege holds for Justice

men and manlike gods pretending

in the world a name for Truth

to Rule the sacred Heart.

More may be said

or times pulled down

of understanding

but is left a place of peace

which circumscribing stage of thought

for better wishing willed and

poets made

in Tragedy and Comedy

though relieved

in pipes of Pan

making mock

of our great Sun's intention-

twin born of Earth and Sky

whose care yet some say

is part of Ceres

or waxed wrathful

in Krone

not too much wrought

of Athene's knowing

though, struck like thunder

tyrant hosts

upon the field of men

when Contest wrought

the ken of Greece

'gaints Cyprian kin

let fly, in Homer's recollection

the gods of Contest

for retribution of essential wrong!

Such poet spoke well

but could not know

what, and whom

shall any make of this

more than mere token of Ages

or inspired by such Emblems

as we bear now

and hold

like darling kin

upon the furnaced time

the fiery baptism

enduring yet the ankle

and joint of association

for perfect proof

of Dignity!

Pray

invent them stop

the failing faith of self

that loss of hope has bought

in shadow of these times’

pretended wealth.

Weep and wanes the mind

and otherwise forlorn

in proof of fact such worthless kind

that bears fate and folly, fixed norms

of brazen rationality, shorn

of Talent on the sacred Lyre

but happy in the attire

of objectivity and reason

whose space of thought conspires

with politics, scholars, legal wits

in empty grace of Humanity

to glory in what they begun

and dance to their own constancy

of rhetoric, idiocy, brutality to trembling won

their Influence and Domination.

Void on void

the way of pretended Logic conspires

to fault all else

save its own Interest

contrived with imaged worth

while all others fall

to tears in hope of Humanity

and cannot own for this

what Independence inspires

from Truth and Heart

but them alone-

learned glory of our Defense

that wreck all else

who do not like conspire-

wretched crew

and object of contempt

to every friend and lover, graceless strays!

The fates of folly are not silent born

nor absent to the Muses’ lyre

but sure as certain fault

and such as recklessness of pride has spoke

lengthens the attire

of wishing, as boldly wrote

the pride of men

in wending out of their own vacant space-

one’s own great emptiness, flung

in face of cheapest aspiration

and once begun, danced to false surety

in proof of shadow forms, empty thoughts

conspired on every wish, employed and inspired

to wrack loss and pretence on life (worthy thoughts

for abysmal ways), destruction and worthlessness enjoyed!

I'm sure I kissed the Phoenix

as my lips admit fire

too burning in seeming truth

and stunned of thought…

not too much dismayed by wonder yet

in lick of salt for learning

but for spite of memory in contempt for some

set fierce upon the Moment

my good intention and attention...

let it come.

"I’m full now, my Care

I can eat no more"-

she said

then Being led

upon the shore

where God and Goddess All adore

wandering hand in hand

with each, beloved.

A fool’s dance among our selves

if we don't conceive IT-

our life, or sinister plan

killing our hope

if we mistreat IT

or in loss of true wealth

fail to believe IT-

our life, holy hands

whirling, endless health

and love cherished.

Get what we want

or get what we need

or folly flaunt

upon the Widow’s mite and Seed

if any dare!

The Work is earned

and bends backward to terms of wrong

for rectification, such as sages learn

in auditing the Angels' Song

which Majesty of Heart lays bare.

Wait upon the gentle Breeze

Silver Pinions lead

as if embraced of ease

and, purer than faith to mend

Our loss, extend

Truth’s healing upon Disease.

BOOM!

the Ages go

in thunder of the Winds

that Chance must make

and bestow

to all of each, in-between

today and tomorrow.

BOOM!

the contest rolls

in Majesty of Sorrow

that cries for what is truly seen

and thought allows

no one spared belief or Fate

or ought of what Humanity inspires.

What Once the Lords of Time embraced

or Queens of Golden Fields’ forlornness

wandered in seek of Grace

to still allow that Wakefulness Be born

still raging, strikes upon the start

of flying darts and down-bent-right

to thrash in its Tale, the Art

with Hermes and Apollo's Might…

yet what some Dragon wishes

in snort of failing worlds for Rage

is but the tinkling dishes

of Artemis, beseemed…

but worth of simple soul knows such things

and bends the bow of Light

which, ware of thought, takes aim

with Neptune's great belief

to pierce and slay the grand conceit.

String the Bow

draw taught the Line

and aim upon the Brow

of Sun and Moon of Man

or in thought for pride of self

write the Designs

which Ark of Aeons owned.

When then upon the darkened Sea

and drenched with fury of the unjust reign

ask what Dagon sought to gain

in stealing Pearl of God and Pain…

then tinkle salt upon the wire

in will of Life unfulfilled

and, sudden pissing, be inspired

with jolts of Power, stunned!

Not yet told

is what the Panther of Night holds

or cat-paw stomping can perform

in subtle ways of old

or darker embers wreak

with sulfured fuming

of sacred musing

in the Dark of Life, or lap

of the many hungry

in quest of Water

and who clap

in praise of Thunder

on the breast of Fire

when Fury rests

in Phoenix’ Nest

or otherwise expires in death

of Ash and Waste of worldly tombs

for every social norm…

such is more bold

but set in peace

of preferential treatment

of itself, sorrow made

and kept in ancient rest

for the secret sneaking

hunts still upon the Void

of seeming men…

such Eye of sight is Silence

but may roar, too much annoyed

with worlds and ways of men

less discerning

yet more boasting, proud

than Wisdom in the sage

has wrought for Truth.

Black as Night the Paw

and sleek as Sin the Maw

into whose teeth

the sons of men lurch with lust

who must

cut themselves on Ivory

or Pearl Drops see

from out their torn times

the waking pretence of worldly power

for estimate of pretended Joy

more glad for simple loss of fools

than when sleeping Panthers slipped the Night

and let fly the Hunt their hide and seek inspired.

Meow, Meow

the kit employs

a cry upon the Air

twisted tales

or desperate wails

sounding what none have dared…

such lap of luxury has set

a place for orphans' crying

undoing what the learned left

for the politics of lies.

She calls upon the Lunatic

and whistles on the Wind-

write the Score of gods, bereft

in signs of hopelessness and sin!

Allow, Allow

mellow rest in seeming

for what the worthy can…

Call, Call

for Roost of meaning

or be prey to Pan.

Catch as catch can

of believing

or, disavowed

the ancient Hearth

and source of being

fall naked upon All.

Some mock, like barking dogs, the sound

or doubting, front on Revelation…

though Life bids them well

more strength they need

than Atlas wrapped upon the Stone

or, drinking down the sweetest Mead

in semblance of Sisyphus’ sin

must heave and belch the times, disowned.

Ruby like the rising dawn

or white in ribbons of the Sun

the Abyss yet must, mirrored, yawn

and gulp down folly men have known

whirling on the twisted way

the fool for loss has loved

in sight of pretended fact

or in every bit become betrayed

to what their greedy minds begun.

dum, dum, dum

drumming of flight

comes, comes, comes

circumspection might.

Weep in Will, O Past

pluck the newborn suns...

shed the tearing Eye, begun

when first espied your best

wandering upon the Way

too much a Sojourn ken

of thought and musing

too much betrayed

of learning and praise of men.

No cunning now shall prove

as was made

when Pride and Greed was wrought

but dropped from bloody wrong, allayed

the Night, all wrath of men and justice bought.

Tempted from the grip of Fate

set peace upon the Might

such patient and sacred Muse

and whispering to the Cobra's spite

fronted upon the worthless sight

and Fangs of Facing, pure delight

owned every Shade and abuse!

CAWCAW:

lion's maw

or Odin's birds a singing

RAWRAW

flesh in Law

all the Aeons clinging

Buckler, Shield, and Remonstrance

dare the Night…

Fucker, Fiend, or Pan's incense

pluck what's Right

blow upon the Orbs

and smoke down every way

or otherwise, make no sense

but Foot of Titans, stayed.

They march upon a thought

in Muse or sickness of the Sphere

and seek what Folly wrought

to call their ancient Tears…

catch the Roe

pierce the Hart

let wing upon the Field

Our Aim of Truth or Folly, bought

in Word the Ages start

when proving Death and Sin

sung Joy of Harvests' Yield…

stream into the Vision

Thou unborn suns of Night

and Roar my Wisdom

in grasp of whitened Banners, bright

front upon the Walls

and keep the darkened view

for when you need it, counting balls

or sliding nuts, contend the Blue

more quick than Mercurial might

it shifts upon your brazen hand

and tends the Fortune of Light

only the Wise understand

echoes of the Wind

thy lover said

is such tortured musing

though when everything is Red

or the thought, better abusing

Rung life upon the dead…

no little boat-life

but lots of places

in the world…

take it easy

make it last

all Night

cold at Night

waves on the beach

creeping back

the Memory

something worthy

but yet

out of Reach

some distant whirl?

I've not told half the Tale

but linger here

upon the Verge…

no teetering

but set Right

with Eagle claws secured…

if U want to hear some Pages

toss some Stories

if U'r tired

toss some Pages

here when U'r ready

roll with the Changes

U know you got 2

keep on rolling

with the Changes

got2 got2 got2

keep on rollin

got to learn to

roll

this is Our Bumbling BBB

smoken Lucky Strikes

too BAD

the AEON lied

kiss the Widows' Mite!

cold as ice

willing to sacrifice

the dove

no advice

I know

digging for gold

blowing away

Fortune and Feeling...

but, some Day, We pay

sacrifice of Love

Paradise or Lice

crawling to Doom

or waving Destiny HELLO.

The Sky is burning

and the Soul

is on Fire

keep the Design

and wait the Vain to arrive

or lap of luxury despise

in every Way

I believe the Soul's

on Fire

I laugh

in learnin

dirge and dogs of the Stye

Back and Forth

the Leaning Oz

smacks the golden face of Fate

for kissing, stumbling the Cause

O, O, O

keep on crying

No No No

quit the brother’s mercy scrying!

Drinking too

just as you

though Yeast informed...

not too subtle Muse

of what is true

the thought has born

tempting way of patrimony

leavening the Lark

or in guise of matrimony

sing upon the waking Dark

if Music is the Master...

will you head the Master Call

or in the Hurt of Lying

speak all is said?

take it, take it, take it

to the Movie

make it, make it, make it

brighter Glow

watch the Stage

or Act the Folly

All in Each, your Garment Wove

If I had Time

or peace of Mind

I would not bother

or kiss my daughter

in way upon the Wind

but reasoned upon the Line

I AM sure to find

what something said of Other

in spite of pride and laughter

for ends that love and learning lent

it's all just fine

if when judgement

every else is held to blame

and then upon a time

turn again the involvement

and own upon the same

who is Wrong?

the sum is wrong

in pretense of a thought

who mock the golden Song

and, yin for yang or bing for bong

tell of truths now wrought...

hit upon your male of late

the voice of wrecking crews

and obvious, insatiate

complained of the untrue

more of me, or more of you

it's all in the beseeming

love your self, or the true

Cleft of thought believing

bid upon the Haze

I say, Tokens of dismay

or Roots of life raze

betray

your own Company

...more is said upon the AIR

enduring in the Moment

but the lion seeks his lair

and lets roar the Omen

slow and gentle flame

lingers on the Lintel

speaking Hosts of Fame

in Witness of the Simple

then They saw

the seven steps of Angels

every bet of awe

reckoning the Angle

and Choring Song

Demon's coming Down

who will stop the Reign?

Go down, Virginia!

SEEK SHELTER

from the STORM

and SUNDER

every CHAIN!!!

GORLING chords a weaving

bobbing on the Year

still of heart still learning

Joy of dropping Tear

I'd love to change the world

but don't know what TODO...

CIRCLE upon the WHIRL

every thought in boy and girl

world pollution

no solution

institution...

spread the Wine

tread it fine

and Froth upon the ageless brine!

O MAN

some Whisper said...

how on Earth work through This?

ought otherwise denied

for madness

or folly

or loss

PART II

(to be continued)

Durandus von Meissen-

Author and Architect

BeingQuest.com

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