The Recognition

I know now that a young person is but a grown child,
That hatred is but an invention of love’s ultimate fear,
Though I know enough to know naught is ever known,
I still must attempt to say that which words cannot be said,
Here I wish to expunge all syllables spoke of the lesser,
To consolidate every vexation of a finer concern of our air,
So feel my lips kiss every wound inflicted by the malicious,
See my heart beat the tyrants of mind to their final death,
Life has been to shy of time any length of futile negation,
So lead only to follow your future footprints, inevitably,
Know that your lover is your only god or arcane host,
That your relations are your only potential heavens or salvation.

I certainly see that the cup is half full, but half full of what?
Light is seen in darkness, whilst its space remains enigmatic,
Remember that every life taken is birth-given, perhaps again,
That life’s symphonies compose songs unheard by the dumb and
That our carnal pleasures are not felt by the callous and paraplegic,
That art’s beautiful imagery is unseen by the blind or eyeless,
That the finest spirits are tasted not by the starving and dysgeusic,
That sacred perfume-oils and incense are smelled not by the anosmiac,
But we brothers and sisters are truly blessed by such heavenly hells,
Every food crumb indulged, or water wasted is another’s deprivation,
A laugh is another’s tear, so understand; survival is a luxury scorned,
Thus, your new found gratitude isn’t a revolution, but the recognition.