And while I stray in my cartesian coords,
inventing angles planes and mores.
linking up the disjoined plan,
to free and allow all man to regain.
Communication’s not much fun,
if math was the only plight to run.
So obsfication and obliteration,
or obligation and the obediencetitian.
If order was but only one,
we’d be banging on about basic fun.
The one you get smelling a rose,
or cooling down under the hose.
The one you get with a good retort,
or having saved for a stay at the resort.
Even winning at a game of golf,
or helping a lady save herself.
The one you get when alleviating,
the peoples pain in a comical frame.
Or when you even assist a dog,
on getting home unto their god.
Fixing up that leaky tap,
Cleaning up that furry rack.
Throwing out that rubbish so,
or ridding leaves that have to go.
Saying a kind word to eyes that search,
or practice and practice, just to rehearse.
A smile, a grin, it doesn’t mean a thing.
Unless you needed to bring it in.
So spreading the joy,
speading the gift.
Speading the very,
rift we drift.
Uping the vibe,
beautifying the hive.
Whatever it takes,
to lift our lives.
Ironically,
reading this too.
Is deviating your focus,
on feeding a few.
So sit or stand,
do whatever you can.
But turning thinking off,
is also important for toffs.
So to breathing,
better breaths,
having posture,
that perpetuates and rests.
World without pain,
is not a world without rain.
And night will take over,
but the light will follow you fellower.