Being content is a forest harvested axe split pile of wood. It grants understanding as to what heat means in the cold winter night.

Truth's Vision is Our Blindspot: If we only had eyes that could see

In dark compensations and
Moonless nights of blamelessness,
We sit understanding each other
As a part of the whole.

Maggots writhing in filth.
We walk the earth and pray
In the shadow.
Dreaming that we are gods.

We rave and rage against nature.
Fools, greedy hearts and empty souls.
Gold is a cold stone and
Dollar bills are but wrinkled dreams.

Away from the bone yards
We mumble and morn.
As if we didn't have enough.
Razing the world for the fear of fear.

The Wholesome Embrace of Nature

Om Mani Padme Hum

Reality is a chant taught to us by our parents.
Repeated enough so as to be believed.
Then what is Truth?
I suppose that which we believe.
Our Mantra.