It's unfair of science to pursue as
she does, trying to refute facts and fiction.
It’s unlikely the havoc doesn’t carry
an effect.
Pledged as we are, one is so aware, another
is by faith, dreams, hopes, and feelings; fire
of angels, remiss to exclude darkness,
with so much done, and sullen, unsatisfied.
We must contend with self: how far does it
extend? must a person choke on his ghosts,
subsequently giving up one ghost?
Detachment is lethal.
Attachment is painful.
Many desire from others what can’t
be given: due to temperament,
experience, sentiments, design and
disaster, love, creed, and self-credence.
You’ve been trained for silence, but not emptiness.
Science is different for souls.
There’s chasing,
still; an inability to let go,
still; a ride is ahead of races, cattle,
herd and voice.
More of it is sought, as more familiar
one becomes with its mechanics.
The grandness of it. An only chase in
time. As needed for wickedness to adjust.
You’ve been trained for emptiness, but not
silence.
Strangeness pushing forward; passion in pain
one final calling; tapestry, curtains
bleeding, caricatures walking about
the carnival.
Each pleat is revelation.
In reality,
for you, one has never been worthy, and
chasing is exhilarating.
What would be final words?
—staring at eyes,
giving creed and punishment, hand trembling,
laughing inside, a full compromise,
surrounded by each demon along the
roadside.
