*you get one question to ask God*
Person 1: God, beyond positive and negative what is reality?
God: Well, there’s no reference point. My child, your question has no meaning.
*goes to person 2 and says “I wasted my question. Go to him and ask “what question should I ask you?”
Person 2: Oh God, what question should I ask you?
God: Why do you want a question? So you do have a problem…
A beauty has profounded you, in which the smallest pettle has shredded a thousand roses.
Of the breasted bird, a thousand creeds are given, of purple and gold robes; from the valleys of narlwood and rockcrete, groomed and plumped from the eyes of Constantinople’s beauty.
The shimmer of the valiant chivalry stands at a crossing point, the ayia of dignities. Whether we must pursue the value of the lusted, or the honourable bronze plate,
Silent and preserve as it has been, only to be awaken when unlingered of harmony. The harp of Eros.
For what is of worth, if worth itself has no value? If all becomes necessities and all necessities become granted? The slither of un-dying precept, from the vanity of a king.
Here on this pain of the ford, my wishes are given, even if it means the sweetest of dreams lost; the eternal cosmos of your undying presumption is where I find peace.
From light to dust, proverbs of a forefathers alley
The placid man returning home to the deep reaches of desolate and monotone equity.
To the rich man, what beat is the one which moves mountains?
Rather than, what rekindles the sunrise to favour the meek?
An individual can shift essence from stars yet the group draft choices closest to the surface.
And so, in this, the wicker or the carpenter or even the lame can bring compromised promenades of harmony from the dust of golden brown.
And in this immortal and infinite perspective;
I find peace where Kibera lay.