There is a change in perception while stepping through a moment. 

Once we see wholeness and then the time stops.

Spectrums of definitions we formulate seem futile, as always.

Whatever we bequeath, speaks of Mr. Tambourine Man,
white letters on a brickwall
and all that hasn't been created yet.

It's too late, Michaelangelo
to retrieve the condemned notions!

There is a theme interwoven in our lives
and it speaks of nothing but loss, haven't you heard?

So what is there beyond indignities of past times?
Poetry?  Science?

Clemency
seems to be conceived from vengeance,
and it is fucking ridiculous. 

Comfort of being is like a chocolate bar 
though the tenet is to be lost in the process, naturally.

Intimate loving is for a few only and the price is greater than their desire,
didn't you know?

Instead of giving birth, some build cemeteries 
for it is tangible and extant.

So maybe you can stop your sermon right now and listen. to this:

There is a new lover going your way to destroy
what you once built.

That is the way it has always been.

Mr. Michaelangelo, pass the bottle so we could speak some more
of inspiration.

.

. copyrightÝ Jann C. Castor © 20018,WGA