By failures to succeed—an ancient reality, eons at
science. Love gave wisdom, Adam petered out, God is with placement—a hundred
centuries by evolving, a dear hunch, laughing at it, working a pencil. To hear
is by rewards, to feel is by brains, to war is by victory and loses. The passivist
dies. A warrior buries herself—like many funerals, flags on skies, juice and
pills—if living, it becomes an art, a game, just to survive, minds playing
tic-tac-toe. Business out there, a problem with existence, humiliated, decoding
my nature. Love needed me, but a child, a soul, to encounter absence, regrets,
reaching for strangers. An environment prone to violence, never exonerated,
life chases, catches up, a field of bones—a body stripped of sinews. Love was
codified. Love was perfected. In seeing Love, we saw God. We kept her holy. She
showed humanness. We rejected Love. At walls, grappling, at gates, pleading. The
unholy wars—fleshed for love, too lascivious to go to heaven: a lie! We proffer
a mistake, we color mind-rooms, we move at a high speed. Never at discussion.
Never a topic—plaguing memories, giggling at intonation—so emphatic, dying in
trenches, came from mud, to taste a little of the good life. Feuding reality—agreeing,
as going too far, scores of scales—a serious imbalance.
