I care not for seasons, or for love,
both change often enough.
Absolute love,
supposedly ,
never changes;
So below be done as well as above?
Should we be,
unconditional and steadfast, as Madmen and prophets?
Don't you see,
One believes in an illusion, another creates his own!
Can the template from above be followed below?
The error of the heart,
is believing so.
Else all fails and the folly of men repeats.
I care not for nature, or death.
Both never change, or even bluff.
Time. Heavens above,
supposedly,
are always changing;
Divinity alone contemplates Absolute love.
For fools believe they counsel kings.
As we are all jesters ,
in a merry dance til death;
the most constant of all fates.
Where are those immortal beings?
Pulling strings on puppets,
who surely know,
The comedy of Life is patterned,
As above, so below.
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