The bigger the leaf lost,
The higher the tree's grief cost,
Is thine Fate being to Thee?
Turn your season of all or none pain,
Into Laughter's reason to thrall or shun bane.
The more the mind thinks,
The less the heart hears,
For as your blind Soul blinks-
Unrest, with glee, with impart fears,
Are thine thoughts being to Thee?
Be in riot,
Turn the voice of voilent Illusion's demented fruition,
Into the choice of silent fusion's cemented Intuition.