Singularity of the Plurality
As the eyes blink to face the sun
Life trembles with the lack of air,
The birth never meets the death
As soul wants to escape the body;
One force guides the other
As the soul is muscle-bound,
Two forces work together
Sometimes indifferently
But they needn’t exist at a place;
The monism nullifies our lives
As nothing that we do, ultimately survives,
No progress or flaws, nothing begins or ends,
The world is not like that, it is full of blind fjord,
Never finished, never the same twice
Lost as we hold, always to be regained,
Perfection is a fallen fruit
Between that meaning and the matter;
Our desire to get that supreme state
Plasters each aperture by numb ideal of white
Universal, refusing to allow Division or dispersal;
If man is an image of God, the god disintegrates
Man is man because once he was a beast,
The Man is crazy with resentment, he is dashed
By good hopes or bad dreams against the world,
But conscious of the joy of things and the power
Of going beyond and above the limits of time
