Stillness. To explode - then peace leads,
Chaos satisfies the myth: order.
Women cry, man bleeds
People lie - Take cover! -
All for the bloody
Truth; it is beauty.
But how? The dogged scoundrel,
That is the myth, leads to an abyss,
As great as our cosmic monster.
Order, the cunning allure,
Plays with appetite and sanity,
Not unlike the snake in the garden,
"Snap!" Too slowly to think of beauty,
Or peace, humanity will be still.
There is no horror in love.
Serenity, not sanity, move
One soul unto another,
The peace is a flower
A decorated prophetess,
A Bright Sun, forgiving our mess.
The elixer of evermore, enlightens
Brightens, reveals, and mends.
And when her eyes shut,
To hide from or shun our follies -
Like a disappointed mother, then what?
We are lost, and our dreams contract
Our images implode, and we
Find our mythical thoughts,
Like a tragic farce,
Humanity's destruction is
In all too much order.
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