Life is a make of cores
telling ample truths heard by all, yet none.
And our perception of it is a knack
budding into a one sided phizog.
We search for what we have where it cannot be held
and seek to find readings to perverted acts through the
lines of our innocent palms.
Answers have their worth, yes.
They are nods of indulgence
but mysteries are of more quintessence
Unknow, and much flows in; sometimes out, but it wings us.
The heart, mind, our spirit, and will
are more in tune when they are without ties or probing eyes
looking to see what is beyond;
searching for what may already exist; or not.
For when the desire to know soars,
an unhappy soul wanders
and becomes prey to what it yearns to affirm.