Math gets it right.
The normal sticks out from the plane.
And if everything is normal
There is no plane.
Life gets it right.
It’s normal to stick out from the plain.
And since everything is normal
There is no plain.
I am all alone.
You are all alone.
We are all alone.
Together.
⇒
I am not alone.
You are not alone.
We are all
Together.
The point of life is to die a good death;
For the time we spend dead
Dwarfs the time we spend alive
And a good death is sung of for ages.
The best odds for dying a good death
Is to live a good life,
So that in the final moments
Those alive sing of your life for ages.
That measure is taken at the last breath
Which brings hope to the vilest of villains:
A bad life can be eclipsed with
A single act of momentous selflessness.
That measure is taken at the last breath
Which brings fear to the purest of puritans:
A good life can be eclipsed with
A single act of petty selfishness.
Infinite sets can be of different sizes.
The set of integers in the universe continues ad infinitum.
The set of real numbers in the universe continues ad infinitum.
Yet reals are more infinite
For reals are manifold between integers
If you know how to look.
The set of ugliness in the universe continues ad infinitum.
The set of beauty in the universe continues ad infinitum.
Yet beauty is more infinite
For beauty is manifold between ugliness
If you know how to look.
Family.
We all have them.
Our parents had them.
Our’s inherit from theirs.
We play with them.
Sometimes we indulge them.
Sometimes we regret.
We fight with them.
Sometimes we expel them.
Sometimes reunions are … complex.
Yet…
When we acknowledge,
Without subservience,
Their individuality…
When we honor,
Without worshipping,
Their power…
When we forgive,
Without condoning,
Their mistakes…
When we discipline,
Without anger,
Their transgressions…
When we support,
Without coddling,
Their struggles…
When we praise,
Without semblance,
Their growth…
When we accept,
Without shame,
Their flaws…
When we cherish,
Without limits,
Their totality…
Beauty becomes them.
We become whole with them.
We learn the nature of love.
Demons.
We all have them.
Our parents had them.
Our’s inherit from theirs.
We play with them.
Sometimes we indulge them.
Sometimes we regret.
We fight with them.
Sometimes we expel them.
Sometimes reunions are … complex.
Yet…
When we acknowledge,
Without subservience,
Their individuality…
When we honor,
Without worshipping,
Their power…
When we forgive,
Without condoning,
Their mistakes…
When we discipline,
Without anger,
Their transgressions…
When we support,
Without coddling,
Their struggles…
When we praise,
Without semblance,
Their growth…
When we accept,
Without shame,
Their flaws…
When we cherish,
Without limits,
Their totality…
Beauty becomes them.
We become whole with them.
We learn the nature of love.
A. B. Clarke 