He was singing all alone, just silence as his home.
She was dancing through the wilderness,
There was peace within their bones, deep silent peace enthroned,
As the world tumbled above, along circular rhythms stained by small discrepancies;
Call them the lessons for human kind.
The many people, destined brightly from birth,
Found themselves in the mirror of life, so wise,
Struggling from out of the mire, beauty-gifted and true.
Yet force fed ferrous food;
Ferrous, the vacancy of the mechanical heart,
The machine, now falling apart... it always was.
Nature falls with heart unto itself,
An Everlasting foundation is She,
Dancing in wonder as the wilderness wild;
Sacred star golden incarnate child
Merges with old souls over lives' seas.
He was singing his song, given mysteriously to his own heart,
Nothing more needed saying.
The fount of honeyed eyes
Having seen Her dance,
In every guise,
Life knowing and overflowing itself.
"Culture grows organically,
Through artistry." spoke Story.
The art of the truth sought in the heart,
Simple and immaculate,
Joyous and spacious,
Dreaming wisdom deep in the Earth.
We don't need to buy your toys,
Oh machine panderers;
Your soul forgotten, joyless and dumbstruck,
Artless corruption fails itself; lost straight-grey highways to empty places.
You rust before our seering souled eyes;
Such failure lies, and lacks surprise.
Yet creative culture never dies,
Dreaming itself freely,
Knows the bridge over lives;
Symphonic symbols of cycles wise.
This has always been Her dance and His song:
The cultural dreaming of creative architecture
Enlivening life alive.
Feedback or comments welcome.