∞

Each moment, without beginning or end
Time: our affliction
Like mirrors to our ears
Unable to grasp that which we cannot see.
Forever trapped by our understanding
Of progress
And our inability to proceed.

Linear Advance

Look forward, not behind. Admire, and improve upon, do not worship. Social changes. Upper class men.
Slavery acknowledges civility, and is one.

Sing democracy's praises, do not let it hear you doubt it.
Do not tell it lies, except to protect the other.
Tell them all that they may hope.
Disguise a change in it and
Focus on defeating your rival.
This is survival of the popular myth.

Nothing Questions

Where did they come from?
Did they intrude on the present?
Rudely, and corrupt, without a personal sex.
No definite. A concentrated ambiguity,
Only this.
A light drawn from above.
And the colours become nothing
In sudden contact.
Vacuus and derived,
A slow development allows for completeness ,
That washes our excitement and understanding
Away. But what do we know about concrete?

All is Well, All is Permitted

Try not, do.
A contradictory element
That is vital to the end.

An equation that denies it,
The internal mirror
Balanced on all gains
And none.

Never can the recurring steps
Be repeated, for truth is not.
Only the innocent may witness eternity,
It is but a hollow echo for us all.

The absurd mind accepts not
But hope lives still.
A closed eye sees despair in mortality
And it is then
That happiness is exchanged for faith.

Joy Cannot Be Savoured

The end. It did. And left, it did.
Though the contained remained behind.
Full speed exists, the pace that happiness arrives.
A silent resistence to all and any light,
The shadow withstands the plague.

When trapped man can aim
To discover what he can.
Though there is always an hour
Of the day or night
When man will prove a coward
And fear that moment, nothing more.

Love.
It is not much to be.
To find its own expression,
A love cannot achieve.
But one cannot prevent
The act of condemnation
In himself or any other
Even victims can sometimes
Be executioners.

There was no surprise in this suffering.
For months, for days, it was but
A continuation of always the same pain.
Dull and enduring, detached from whatever
Wish could be real.

The long exile.
A sudden downpour,
Unrivalled by the old,
Confused and bewildering joy.

A searing emotion.

No More Than a Simple, Obstinate Determination to Live

Affliction confliction
It's never too late or ever too soon
And each repeats itself
Before the judge
A judgement.
The day will come
And then...

To start again, cannot pretend
The thought that isn't there.
A new relief, but all it can
Create is an
Unbalanced image of existence.
A past self becomes negative
And never does return.
Suffering a general separation
From that which was the daily life
Of us all, and on.

Inquiry as the Rain

Here, we are no one. But if not here
We cannot truly live.
To live we must not.
The doubtful distinction between survival and being alive.
What does will become?

To each his own task.
Were these words ever uttered?
A dream within imagination
Only given - life? through a singular vision.

The world cannot be perceived and lived
And though I am not certain that I exist,
I know that one day I will.
Nothing is lost.