Logical Fukistry

 

Without the aristocrat the world would succumb to its own ends

Without the illumination of the aristocrat, how could we live in the darkness

Intermittent turmoil, turning it around

The explosion of awareness opposite the explosion of realness

Reality

Coursing through arousing caution in preparedness

Antennas in place for adaptability

Solid formulas principles, claimed ethics

 

Heirs to such thrones, consciously designated

Unconsciously pillared

Sorting through piles of rubbish

Reared up for the one purpose to acquiescence when the bell is sounded

 

How can a path where we abandon something lead to home

A contradiction that weighs heavily on the soul

The eye of the beholder creeping forward to gaze at all

Slowly leafing out to block off the sun

 

Have I escaped the fear

Can I gaze outward contemplating none

Do my past and future masters’ whips

Keep me on the run

 

Is my mind empirical enough

Or is that just another misnomer