Life is as fragile as truth. Certain but, too easy to mistake, it is egg shell thin and thinner yet. A simple membrane, where a guard screens atom and molecule…………. There is much strong talk about ending lives. A great power is believed to be possessed by stopping a most fragile thing. It is life, simple and direct, unmistakable until it is gone………… We see the boast of protecting our innocence, by obliterating others whom we have come against. Other lives just as fragile and just as simple. In such talk there is no recompense, only the promise of shattered shell and broken bone, but these are not alone………… They come with decimated lives and hearts beyond stitch or hope of being sown. Life is so simple, it never comes or goes alone………… Life is as fragile as truth, we seem to know when old but not when youth. The takers of innocence cannot abide this truth, nor the life they lost someway, when most tender youth…………It is Love we end in honoring hate, a last chance to know its flowered gate. To try and make amends, lets forgiveness flow. Life cracks open its shell, lights illumination streaming out. Love shining everywhere in a total rout. It is what truth always was, all about………………………………………………………………………..
Today at the border, I planted bulbs. I noticed a few daffodils coming up.These new bulbs will be a surprise to my companion. We still have some verbena flowering. They continue to spread like wildflowers. Now they are all over the yards.In the desert, gray rainy days can mean big excitement for gardeners. You have endless energy, then notice you may need more compost, or plants. Gardeners can be greedy about growing.Just in case you were not aware. In the desert some “weeds” sprout in winter if you have a few wet days. They will hunker down nearly invisible for months of warm, dry spring and hot summer weather until the counted on monsoon season arrives. Depending on the amount and timing of the rain, they may become small little inch plants or sometimes some many feet tall.End of nations edge report.
We are under chemical directivity
they are what we are, you see
DNA winds environment and history
but to us it is a blind mystery
In youth the chemicals
turn our eyes into shape envy
we see things old now differently
when the spiral ladder so decrees
time for that chemical dance; 1,2,3
They find our signature stuffed indifferently
scattered way out in distant Milky Way seas
suitcases floating spectographic identity
islands the same as in you and me
Chemicals have liked to claim a soul
as in love they are able to do so easily
for how has so much exact serendipity
so much perfect compatibility
come into we to be?
Some might say we chemicals
are on our own doubt indefinitely
Ideas, just happening to appear to be
found near hydrogen and oxygen’s
tide bound Mother Sea.
We live in what we call reality
and every part would need to be
purely coincidental culpability
which seems like purest improbability
that formulas would change perfectly
with a puzzle fit to unveil this diversity
all from the same redefined energy.
Chemicals are typing
this tales on-line plea
vibrating string theories
quarky quantum quintessence
I feel my ego head swells
with idea based encephalopathy.
I dream of friends
in gray simple rain
I am closer to love
when nearest to pain
I am just like you
you have your own name
but how unique are we
we do not type the same?
Words make us as one
but who is it to blame
when a coconut holds its future
its open shell, the rain.