If we find, what will we do with that knowledge?

I smelt myself,
tear into the heart,
for my eyes reveal it,
forced to face self for truth,
As I sit in ash,
I await,
wait for the unknown,
constantly searching for Keyes,
of the prisons of ignorance that we grow towards and away from.
It is not my heart that beats within,
but fear,
fear of not finding,
before the searching runs out,
only to die bitter,
with disillusionments from there mouths.

Some know, others sub-consciencely know only, few have come to know both. Fact remains it is known. Others mere breezes of non-reality that's purpose is the 'common good', never questioning as a whole the obvious, for the lack of care because of the 'cremation' of such as a 'collective'. The matter therefore is in the hands of the individual, who in turns enlightens another, etc, until the amount of collective energy causes shift. Throughout all of history records of these shifts; whether or not they where ' intended' or not, occurred because of there not being enough positive, or a limited amount of negative energy, that then shifts society into the direction of itself. Now the question remains for the people of this country, the continent, this Earth, of what are they going to become, and who they are going to become it too.

Learn, reason, speak.

Everything being in place, in plain view, having purpose to the full extent of itself, never ceasing in sustaining an understanding of the world around you, surprise in its gift of delight each morning, finding the butterflies drifting towards midheavan in early light, never doubt the reason that exists within the self for this pleasure. On the other hand, many moments slip one in the night, by over-exuberate in that gift to an indulgent exstream. It though know it is of worth, for it is a great gain, one that resides fully within, filling the brim with the froth of sages. Do the love's of discontent, and solitude fill well within the hollow stone, or as again do my classes need cleaning? The feet of the traveler soft that they where, for the grass is where his foot stepped. A certain point of light gleamed its twinkle at the dusk one night as said " I feel like my light is fading, do you mind a spark or two"? The dusk did not hear the glimmer, for it was lazy and afraid of all its life, just the mere sight of it burned the eye. But one day the glimmer was infused with energy, energy that dispersed many, many years ago, by the wave of a giant, this wave washing over the glimmer, filling the brightness again, ever more expanding into itself

"Never go gloomily,man with a
mind!
Hope is a better companion than
fear"
(Martin Farquhar Tupper)

Everything moved like this for many years, until one almost motionless day, the glimmer so far away fell into itself, because of its gravity, becoming brilliant and weighty. One of far away brings solutions to chaos, but then upon arriving is killed by beggars in the streets. I trust that finding the ocean of the springtime requires years of planting, the afar being but tomorrow. I listen upon the wind birds, as they dance in groups among themselves, effortlessly communicating through themselves, making human relations childish, and stubbornly obvious.

(A special place of mine)