The Progression

That which fills the void,
That which needs be understood
Yet cannot be defined,
Give it glory.
Let praise its justice work
Until it is decorated with a thousand compliments,
Glittering in the limelight like mail.
Obscurity does them no justice,
These flowers of the cave.
Try to accompany them, if you can.
You add to their height
As much as any other of their shadows.
But the pressure of pain can impede their proposal:
The progress of all save but a few.
Greater than these may have fallen.
The mystery that vexes the ages is this:
Will greater rise up?

Sight Inside

Inward and onward
Deeper and hopeful
Forceful
Waiting inside to be found.
Insightful but trite,
Wary and
Wayward it creeps without sleeping
But always intriguing yet pleading
Away from the force that supplies it with
Life and enjoyment and pure satisfaction.
It’s span is away from the
Scale that’s expected,
And yet we accept it.
For what is it there?
Do we see it or sense it inside?
Does it hide?
Can we tell,
Or wait for the test to begin
From within?
Deeper and darker it lurks
And waits for the light
To chase it away.
Why does it wait,
And what is its purpose?
The mind can’t define nor divine such a purpose.
Enveloping warmth can intrude.
Now excluded, the fact it was there
Is forgotten. The mark it once made
Will fade.
Inside its lost presence
Intrudes like a menace,
Invades and
Waits
To be filled
Once more.

The Artist

It is simple to see,
to cast one’s eyes where he may.
Who, then can tell
what there is to see?
Greatness falls from the sky like snow,
and it goes unnoticed.
Imagination,
how fickle it is,
how commanding!
Do we notice that
             we
have that power?
And control it?
It is our power of
creation
that we see and use.
How few there are
who can truly see themselves.
Who can see the power
of Vision
besides those who look?

The Last of Effects

So often one can assume
that the world is not
In the palm of his hand.
To become as we must,
that we cannot see
the End of the path,
and to see is to
become
and in Becoming, the
last of effects
reaches out to empty paws,
and the vacant wanderings
of a mindless crowd.

This is the path
doomed to become
that which is the pastime of
those who cannot become
that which they desire.
Overcoming the last of effects
is the goal of those who are destined to fail.
Forgotten roads lead to
a destination even longer removed,
and life causes
the last of effects.