Tomorrow Autumn becomes official
according to all tribunals judicial
May the season be entirely beneficial
with nothing at all artificial
I don’t refer, of course, to intelligence
but rather to tree leaves, flowers and plants
The essence of Autumn is beauty
not “AI” or its sterile conception of duty
Translation of an excerpt from the verse portion of Lotus Sutra, Chapter 25 (Avalokitesvara Chapter).
“…The body of benevolence, with thundering virtue,
Compassion as boundless as the clouds,
Raining down wisdom like ambrosia
To extinguish the embers of anguish.
If one is ensnared in prosecutions, trials and
Tribunals, or trapped in horrifying wars,
Invoke the strength of Avalokitesvara,
And peace and pardon shall sweep away adversity…”
All Rights Released Into Public Domain.
Lovely, another successful switch?,
Or unattended informant really dead like justice?
Now If THEIR narrative s correct-
Consequently, it is incompetence too deep for words.
Have it to know that the World's people must connect.
Must ask for tribunals to commence onwards.
O This gladly at taxpayer expense.
Be it the thing that brings us back together, again St.
The Underworld.
That makes the World it's playground.
Turns carousels into hunting grounds.
We must connect-like the wealthy.
Direct, like the Oligarchy.
Disect the Hierarchy.
Beyond the blue the Almighty lives
His geography clue the universe never leaves
Loving and kind at church they say
In the incandescent city he bears sway
King of kings He reigns supreme
Angels sing of His majesty sublime
A rod of iron with dazzling crown
Infinite mercies reach the trim of His gown
His blazon feet on pavement of gold rest
The land of knowledge where wisdom nests
There all tribulations are under arrest
And none of this here ever wrest
And He bows down the world beneath
Watching affairs down the Earth
He hears the cry of a dying world
Holding loose His hopeful immutable word
Down here pain and injustice reign
Anarchy and fear hold the reins
And righteousness and love never rain
Its tribunals and magistrates give lain
I saw it all in this little boy
Calamity and misfortune keep him abuoy
His skin wrinkled and tender flesh crusted
Where poverty is built a niche and clustered
Hardly walking and can hardly breath
Amidst town people who walk by in blithe
And so fights on till exhausted he gives in
And lays him forever silent in nature’s inn
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