Mothering the nurturer that precludes joyful sadness,
useful become the links that attach us to one another,
the string that binds humanity, always becoming, one.
Humanity deteriorates as activity in pulsation becomes deciduous,
pine is the scent of marvel, constant battlegrounds of salvation,
second homes to the needy and frank, the destitute become young and careless,
yet, it is in being careful that odds are met in Spirit; the heart always knows.
Much of the season becomes useless unless usurped,
inside the human, enjoyment is a fallacy in which one bathes in wonders,
grain is the sand in which the starving inhale, consuming precious soils,
waters in which bathing becomes the exhaustion of exhalation,
becoming a heading illusion once the grate of orgy passes the soul that perceives.
Haltering usurped hallucinations, steady is the steadfast of giving,
providing in bread and water the salvation of Christ,
allocation of money beholds a certain illusion, think fast before it begets,
yet, steadfast, we become machines unable to think nor speak for thought of deciding the self.
Candles are lit for the deceased, raving mad is the being who closes gates,
Egyptian Gods of the underworld that let lunacy pass through,
gates of jaded memories are inward only, do not become deceived,
for, temptation has many forms.
Anna Rozwadowska 2021