To the wise belongs reasoning and fools rely on it.

You would think that at the base of all that is, you would find good. That the sifting of time and experience would show forth that beneath, that the structure is good. That if you could remove the dirt and land above you would find the frame below, and that you could trust it. But you cannot. It is hidden. The structure is alive. It eludes reason and is set out of the reach of measure. That after the wind and rain had had there way, the mountains would lie there naked to show you rock. But the dirt still clings and gravity fails to reveal. Erosions work profits nothing in this regard.

Nothing New

To lay one line against another to bend and curve them, this escapes me. To fill a space with color or to set a scene within a frame and lay lights and shades across it all, this escapes me. To bend the air and ripple it with sound or to even think it in my head, this escapes me. To remove some mass from here or there and place it back again, yes, all these things escape me. But don't suppose that when they are, that I don't understand. I can see in every scene and every sound the pieces that are me and some pieces that are you. Don't suppose that since I don't loiter there that I don't understand. I know all these lines and curves hard pressed in every page. Every color that has caressed the canvas every pixel on the screen all the notes and rhymes and forms born from the mind. That it's done for and from all that thing inside. Still, have no worries over my respects I only did not pay, for I know that my cheap currency is of little worth in all this place that’s you.

...That each mans life is an epic do not be fooled, do not be set of balance by the mundane, joy, or horrible ...the visible me in no way authorizes the thinker to deny the latent me... And just as there are scientific certainties in life there is in that same place, which consists of both the seen and unseen, a host of what can be found with Men. It is argued whether men are evil or whether they are good, but I say that it is that men are vessels. And that they are ~~~ fill themselves with. And There are hands that help in this filling. With names. Faith Hope and Love Hate Jealousy Fear Envy Desire Lust Anger Despair Pride Justice Mercy. It It It is Love that should govern them all, but here it does not. They war, and the ones who would not, our fallen state has forced their hand...

Paradigm Shift

O hush now child,and still those tears. Now standing in your garden mongst the vines grown thick by time, looms the culmination of your fears that monster you once thought you saw, that time, back in your youth. But even now present has come to us and passed. So let us carry you now, and rest. Rest that heavy heart, the vines will blow, the monsters will leave, the air will move agian.

bluesky

His heart slowed, His gripped loosened, His shoulders dropped. The tunnel vision faded, he could see the whole battlefield, the crying, shouting of his mind was gone, his head lifted a little as his body relaxed and allowed the blood to flow. He could hear. He dropped his arms and stood up straight, a sight unusual on battlefields, the armor had seemed so heavy. He sheathed his sword and stretched his arms out wide. Tilted back his head to see blue skies, and now they weren't too wide. The sun was out butitonlylittheworld, it's heat did not oppress. Their swords and spears and knives, spiked balls on chains hit and bounced or slid or simply stopped. They were somewhat frantic now. The noise and shouts stopped railing down on him, instead he heard them crisp and clear. The breeze whipping through the banners horses hooves and shouts that carried orders redirecting fiercest warriors. He grinned. Drew his sword. Held it out into the chest of a great advancing man. man caught himself died and fell. He let it go, no need for swords now. He lifted his arm horizontal bent at the elbow looked and thought the armor was his weapon now. He felt it so good now, it was a good weight and he could use it, he did. Ahhhthebattlefeltsogood their armor crushing under his, he waded through the warriors looking for a man toflexhisstrength against. He breathed in deep he loved the smells, turned up earth ,horses’ hides grass leather and the smell of fallen men.

The persuite.

The knowledge of her was brought to Him by the people. It was this knowledge of her that brought the desire, for her, to Him. And it was His desire for her that brought Him back before the Elders. ~back before the Elders~ They warned Him, "Don't look her in the eyes". The crowds cheared Him on, cheared him in His pursuit, cheared as the straps where tightend, fastening His armor to Him. He had no need to look for her. As He approached her He diverted His eyes to save them. He fought she evaded. His gaze passed over hers and He was stone. Unlike the rest there, He had the Elders they came restored him, reminded him, and left. He went back and did it again, and... again, and again. Over and over and the Elders continued to free and remind Him. Then again as He passed through the forest of stone men He relized, they never had to tell Him where she was all the gazes of stone, the ones that had gone before Him pointed the way. She never left there, she never searched out to destroy, the voices of the people brought knowledge of her and from that the search for her. He realized there was no mastery of her, he had to lay down that persuit to go back to the town to tell them no, to silence there cheers, and tell them to silence there storys.