Randomness Till the End
Never comprehending,
Nor seeing, nor contriving,
For such actions are futile.
We just go through the motions.
Actions, all things considered,
Lead to one common finality.
Love leads none to anything
Other than a promised land.
Watchful eyes pursuant to these ends
Result in the smacking of wrists.
Naughty thoughts are baneful acts,
Seared images never cloaked with curtains.
Relax, release and take it slow,
Let the grains ripple gold,
For though all which is contrived
Is ultimately of an end,
Le grande finale is best experienced
As a process.
No comments:
Post a Comment