Poetry

Empty so called poetry, rejoicing in its nothingness, turning from question. Fanciful expressions, sometimes, but not every single time,tolerable. Tough reality, gazing straight into the eyes, refusing a certain kind of innocence, just this once. And in this moment arises the thought of worth. And in this moment arises the idea of excellence. And in this moment, arises the idea of true expression. The true expression of understanding. So don't tell me that what you write in your unknowing mind is poetry. And don't expect me to judge the things that you do, kindly. If you want to make your poem, then you will first have to get in touch with your soul. There is no easy way, it can't be done otherwise. And God is the master of creation, soul would appear to be the intermediary, there is no place higher to be, than to be as a servant. And the focuses, are in their way touched and blessed by God. And the God of life is the God of art and this God is the one who allows. So vanity will lead you to delusion, and if you feel that this delusion is a comfort then you turn away from all of art and from all of God. I am a messenger and am given gifts to give. They aren't mine and they don't belong to me, and they aren't yours, and they don't belong to you either. From this gift of God, there must be return. It is inescapable, it is reality, it is truth. So if you would care to believe in the world of art, then you I believe, would care to believe in the world of love. Love is alive not just when there is music in an embrace, and when the touch is real, but when the feeling needs expression.