Roses can’t all be as perfect as each other,
But they’re still all pretty blood-drops,
From the same fragrant mother!
There is a place and time,
Where all things shine and rhyme,
With equal love and intensity,
Echoing nature’s sweet immensity.
Could Milton and Blake have both been right?
And what about Nietzsche’s merciless insight?
There is ever contradiction,
Amidst beauty’s endless friction.
The brilliant and beautiful,
Seem divided and measureable,
Only when the heat of passion becomes tame.
But like wax brought to a flame,
They soon give up their hierarchy,
And dance in drunken frenzy,
Ready to mingle, and consider as peer,
All that has snuck into that limitless sphere!
So indulge and stop comparing,
If you posses sufficient daring,
To see that what we experience,
Through all our art and science,
Are only hints and traces,
Of what our universe embraces!
Beyond the reach of our senses,
Exist infinite songs and dances,
Which the lucky geniuses intuit,
And then generously lead you to it.
So at least seem wise if you be not kind,
And leave your silly measuring sticks behind!