Everything that has risen
Will rise, has fallen, and shall fall
Is all in all the work of this
Whose name I dare not call
Whose name is scantly audible
Through waves and crests of sound
I attest, this name will rest
With lost, but not the found
Those who seek, shall not find
And asking, a caustic reciept
For finding this name exists through pain
And losing what you seek to keep
This, the desideratum
The unnatainable tainted
For entitys who seek to entitle
Their every shadow painted
And sketch they must, to cover lusts
Yet cramp them into the craft
This ever increasing sanctuary
Fallible by the draft
Blown through the winds
By notions of men
Through brush, pastel, or pen
A picture declared
Yet STILL impaired
By blots and splotches of sin
This sin, impossilble to define
As complex things may be blind
The law of the painting can't be kept
If the oils are inept
With every person, lies a creed
Some used for good, some for greed
And argue we will, all in vain
For he above can see our pain
Omnipotent, and mighty he
Knowing where we might finish
Is it possible, that even through error
God understands every blemish?