Fleeting are the feelings of meaning.
Those of which that give clarity that may be caught.
What momentary bliss we may find
Is the rarest of materials for change.
Hence men may devote their lives to coded scrawl
To impart their perspectives in prideful strokes.
But mangled be these men;
For perpetual introspection may corrupt
Beautiful singularities that require naught more
Than presence.
Naught more than blissful ignorance
Hence beauty may only be derived, in their world,
As the condemnation of beauty.
A cherishing of truth as deceitful contentedness.
That's Pretty Cynical
"coded scrawl" a unique view of writing and writer. Nice work this, a pleasure to read the poet always - slc