A poem: Unprepared to Transcend .
When light dawns and night sleeps. We wake.
Life is nor beaming light,
Or shadowy darkness,
It is shades of greys, hints and hues,
Life is solid, practical and comprehensible.
It’s accessories, components, elements are factors.
In it’s persuasion to be tame.
The paint we throw at life is makeshift and substance,
We see life subjective, objective and deductively.
First person watching straight on,
Second person watching beside,
Third person watching from afar.
We took paths that never reveal themselves until realized.
We took life as it came and it spoke.
It granted us reason, wisdom and knowledge.
We read it like a book and it came at us in:
Delusion, Lessons and Memories.
We fought the war against time,
But we continue the fight daily as the trend never ends.
Life is hope, faith and redemption.
What am I but a glimpse of destiny,
In this distorted, untimely and warped time frame.
I do not see, hear and smell evil.. thus do I not do no evil?
No it is that I understand evil that I refrain from it.
consequence, circumstance and condition reminds,
it impedes, it intercedes and it intervenes.
The value of life is the labor of faith, experience and research.
The value of education, the pinpoint destiny of product for your work,
The value of principles, that deeds write your virtue.
But is life an objective where you go there and fro?
It is many objectives with many stages, checkpoints and levels
It is sentences within chapters within books.
The place you look to go is one of chaos, dissonance and confusion.
Home happens to be; past, present and future.
If summation of past makes present.
Many presents is a compartmentalized future.
Many futures means hope is possible.
Hope is a percentile chance, a statistic and roll of the dice.
Though we aim it right and summon all our strengths we get attributes.
An act of chance becomes a game of skill on a dartboard.
Lets aim for a sustainable, livable and manageable future.
From there we can work on power, control and abundance.
Because we lack the wisdom, balance and intellect.
Practicality, humanism and creativity is put on hold,
Told it’s unimportant when it should be our basis.
The stew of ideas is brewing,
The conjuring of a way to simplify a more predictable and desirable future.
The path is written and the redemption for those suffering in the process is coming,
It’s a reckoning indeed, one to be our summation of all our works put together.
It is never the end though, as long as we breath and fight and bite.
There’s always fuel when we burn on spirit.
Pain, Submission and Defeat never stopped us.
Do or die. Birds will fall or they fly.
There’s a feeling that burns, there’s something wrong in our future.
Does no one else feel we are missing something?
And it’s you, a better, stronger, smarter version of us.
Better forget about our luggage because all we can bring is ourselves.
Prepare yourselves. This is all I can say.
Life as a level of correctness; justified, functional to disorderly.
Know the right and be prepared.
Because the key to the fight is where you will be when it starts.