Politics of the Human Mind

the will of the pen knows no bounds but limited to the will of the writers hand like the tone of a melody without sound waiting for the cue from the band the face of a painting has no features except those the artist wishes to convey as the student of life has no teachers except those one wishes to obey the mind of the artist knows no justice except the judgement delivered by the land for the wrath of nature lusts in the embrace of chaos' arms at hand the scholar may quest for that which is forbidden though the will of the body remains untamed for the strength of the mind lay hidden in a philosophers temple in a philosophers brain the warriors will to fight for glory strengthened through each land he drifts yet the screams in his dreams and stories tells him how much peace is a gift as the pen of history continues to move inviting prince time to take part in chance the celestial bodies start to groove on the universes stage in a cosmic dance it is the meekest of men to quest for equality as the soul of the universe aligns with the brute yet in the eyes of the artist one is taught to see when the warrior speaks peace, his lips numb mute the will of chaos runs parallel to the universe as does history to plasma in veins for the gift of peace is mans biggest curse in a world he quest to claim