Control And Adapt

No fortitude, in the early rains,
The rainbows try to remember their smiles;
They are the nectar of the gods
But they can never taste its messianic sweetness:
                For they are bound to a static purgatory.

To know what one can do
Is to know what one can be.
Spring is spring: always.But the eyes are
Summer, spring, winter, autumn;
                They are neither, they are all.

The leaves cannot alrer their seasonal death,
They are free from Fate, but are shackled
To laws without conscience.Their blindness
Is their prison: we are Fate's puppet
                  But in submission we are small deities.

A truth is a religion, its words
Are the very altar that created it.
Just as the altar of man's existence
Is the altar of the very world that created him:
                  Like vines entwining a Roman villa one must cling.

The sun controls the earth
By adapting to its needs:the fields and oceans
Always respond.If our mind is a maze, when a visitor comes
The walls must alter to suit their desires
                  So we may lead them to our ambitions.