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Poem

The field of grain is gold
As harvest moon its eerie red visage will unfold
The birch sings ballad of the old
What we can’t see is there in idea world all powerful even if it we cannot behold

It is a concept best described as horizon’s expanse
In which falcon rather than buzzard will dance
Falcon because there is form it does not happen by chance
This form with buzzard has lot in common its ethereal and it’s hard to tell the two apart from distance 

Like flaying fifteen miles above the sea
The wind runner crane seems to be
Flying beyond destiny
But paradoxically beyond destiny would also be destiny

In finalization of idea and mass separation
That falcon has form dazzles the imagination
Yet he is there master of all creation
With Eye can take an action

The holly dew ornaments the web of destiny which is spun
The new day in its silk has begun
Day of shimmering moon and rising sun
But it is not brute force that will lead one to this bastion

Eye looks gently on divine history
In each there is majesty
But the one of true spirit is one for me
Yet it has form with which one can unify but only if so fit Eye will see

In justice is perfect in paradoxes soul will remain free
Perfect math looking down at Pleiades in yet above ultimate key
Mesmerizing what can’t be named correctly
The form that starts at the base of it is yet it is truly beyond destiny

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