Light speeds forward to find the distant dark.

“Becoming”, an illusion of an end,

and a forest bows to a single spark.

Like all life was preserved within an ark

True meaning from cold logic does transcend.

Light speeds forward to find the distant dark.

Without illusion life is much too stark,

And life does only kindly death portend

And a forest bows to a single spark.

About whom should our victories now remark?

Perhaps the losers we had best defend.

Light speeds forward to find the distant dark.

The war of life often is much too stark

For peace and love freely to them extend

And the forest bows to a single spark.

Watch the upward singing song of the lark

On journeys of illusion now embark.

Light speeds forward to find the distant dark

And a forest bows to a single spark.

*Villanelle