God made man by His own hand,
A man made to manufacture,
And what’s been made from the hand of man?
But his own problems for which he seeks,
His own Fathers hand.
By a thumb that joins and the index that
Points,
A man made to manufacture only unites,
War with peace,
Desire with disease,
Comfort with conflict,
And
Murder with ease.
MaHaSeNa
Upon The Parameter’s Request,
The Void unfolds Himself over the folds of Chaos,
Encompassing All Her Parameters and
Consequences. Every Seven-Fold point of Perfect
Synchronicity is selected by Consequentia
And laid out in a Line next to That Parameter.
Both Lines are intertwined in Balance by Beauty,
For The Intelligence to bend Itself and that Line
Concentric to Horizon, creating a Perfect Circle
centred around Existentia.
A Mark of Measure is left by Consequentia,
Upon Chaos before She recedes into The Void.
The Perfect Circle with Intelligence intertwined,
Slowly closes within Horizon seeking Existentia,
To mark Her as the Reference Point of Purpose,
After which The Circle expands rapidly,
Unfolding itself seven times, Annihilating
Everything Asynchronous and Nothing Perfect,
Until it reaches the Mark of Measure left by It’s
Beloved. The Vacuum left in its wake is quickly
Recreated by Horizon’s expansion, recognizing
Every Tangent as a New Parameter connected to
The old, with New Consequences yet to unfold.
The Perfect Circle then separates itself from itself,
Unfolding one more time to restore the Truth,
And by The Divine Paradox Parameter,
The Perfect Circle unbinds to form a Line,
Which scatters and dissipates into its Points.
Points that scatter across the expanse of Chaos,
Points that sync themselves within The Void,
Waiting for The Parameter’s request again.