Finding Peace

The MAN -THE SPIRIT- - THE SEED All dwell in the same abode In the temple where they are ripened to be born - Conditioned in holding tanks. THE swishing of moving waters gentle memories conditioned in silence. in holding tanks that were replicas of wombs. gentle memories from the world where angles fluttered. Imaginations are contagious we all had the same dream The MAN - The spirit- - The seed delivered unto the vastness of judgement hated femininity- no earthly peace. When man has the gift in spite of you, You insult his dignity. No peace on this plain- Your haughtiness, your naughtiness naughtiness is too of a word nice - maybe babies are- the word Strange, is better. The MAN - The spirit- - The seed There is something about the lips - Lips,shaped like (pictures I have seen) of cherubs mouths. But still we have not perished. All imaginations could not bear witness to the same whatever. someone is sick caught some disease came from poverty and blossomed like a lily in a cesspool pond. Hearts seeking solace inside The sweethearts the clean-hearts deep immersion where no pain dwells where the well disciplined well guided-thoughts are ushers in my temple. The inner silence where - No thoughts run ramped My peace of mind- my saving grace- from the world i have to face. The flute talks the flute is my guide I am still. Just still. CLEAN-HEARTS INSIDE- WHERE THE INNER SILENCE RESIDES ... and no creature be despised neither The MAN - The spirit-nor - his seed