Easy is your pain now and anxiety is extinct. But shall it be my tears are never ending? Memories as a shooting pain, as a razor slicing through my flesh. No hurt momentarily then suddenly the pain burst forth and the blood doth run as red. This pain sparked by the fires of my mind. Twisted it is indeed, as the thoughts continually race and yet, the runner never succeeds. The times of tenderness, as a tiny child wishes for his joyous dinner among the golden sages. Giving forgiveness for my foolishness and the wisdom to retreat from it. The task I know was daunting and rest was more tempting. Still onward to what must be done. What is love? This therefore is love! Yours to me never ending, as sickness grew and a young child upon death needing tenderness. You gave all as needed, and how is such love counted? How is such compassion repaid? Your race is run, and your endless love is now free. Never will it be forgotten by this soul, your affection will never be abolished in my mind. The stars surely burned brighter the day of your birth and the birds sung their song with more melody. What was given to me is priceless and is stowed away in the bank laying upon my shoulders. Assuredly, I uttered them to you, on the day when the golden bowl was broken and you returned to God who established you. Such a lovely soul to attain and to be cherished. Have mercy on me mighty God for the tears I cry for this soul is no longer my wise adviser.
Being there are so few, to advise with the love of a creator, agonizing for me in the womb. I distinguish my paths will stray as a sheep with no shepherd. My eyes see scarcely with no guide, and when this man falls you will never again lift me straight as an arrow. As I drowned, never will your hand reach again to transport me to air. When pain comes, there will be no comforter. Such a cruel disaster to contemplate for a soul.
The days of splendor are gone, as fast as paper turns to ash. The moments acquire treasure or cause complete agony. Which shall it be? The first being most preferred but not consistently is it gained. The past is preferred and is never regained. Letting go is more torture than the gallows, yes, even burning of flesh. At one time, we walked the forest and all joy was plentiful. The crappie ran shallowly, and what had been used was a glorious treasure hunt. The shelter was worn, but best moments sprang from such ecstasy. A dream it was and I will awake and once more we would be there. There, picking among the spoils of others trash. The stars so brilliant and the fire full of warmth. The trees abloom and the subtle scent of lavender floats on the refreshing breeze. Four legged beasts loved your walk and begged for their time. All is gone and it shall remain as is, it is an irreversible season thrown down to us. When this is indeed a season and a time under heaven. The aforementioned is in fact a vapor. What will it be to the one alone and when there is no guide through the dark forests? When a doubt has no uplifting and tears are never dried.
This is evil of all evils done on earth indeed. Once the deed is executed, there is no more joy shared by those fallen in such loss. Seen once more, some say, but I think not. Once this wickedness has familiarized itself to you, realization doth fall upon a man. That body will ne'er be recognized again. What is lost is assuredly permanent, seen never with familiarity. This is an absolute evil! Indeed the most monstrous evil stricken upon man. Even though the race is run and the reward may be sweet. This helps nothing of the pain and the tears, hence when you recognize the truth. Damned be the man who grasps it, and damned be his tears. Damned be his crushing anxiety for observing reality. Damned be this event thrown upon us all. The wisest has said for thousands of years "vanity of vanities" He Still speaks and this man does see it. A generation falls to the dust, and so on does the next. All is forgotten within the decades. Say you, my words are babbling, Say, these words are false. State it, and you are naive.
Even though, the memories are given, and God delivers them abundantly. Hence, what can one quarrel of the blessings bestowed; yet, knowing this is inevitable for any man. Even though, this gave upon man without his association with the first. In addition, how can a tiny child be above his father? His wisdom can not abound above eternal knowledge. Sorrowful am I, this wisdom is not in me and being hurt that me being a man is indeed a fool. There is no capacity for my mind to contemplate the ages. He regards all of this behind and surely ahead. My understanding stays far from me. This understanding that I can never achieve. This produces depression in its self, that I will never know from the beginning to the end. See, you are a fool, and your intelligence indeed lacks. What you perceive in yourself further deepens your mindlessness. The explanation of fools burst forth from this mindlessness and the lack to see the forementioned. Knowingly having outwitted you and seen as far as I can perceive. I have risen above your self-intelligence and have no desire in it. A moment of pain has conveyed this upon me, and what rages within my mind you merely wish to perceive. What is it that twists the wires and disposes of the matter? To a greater degree, who is it that does so? My existence from the 4th of May directly has delivered to me understanding. Is it that I shall seek to see more, or close my eyes to the distance that does indeed lie beyond the hills and above the clouds. Beyond the hill shall I go, this being to knowledge. To the voice that cries in the chief places, and will listen with abundance. Her voice holds the keys to what Is sought. I see once more what is truly as gold, and above rubies. Why is it any fool closes his ears to her cry? Even so I hear not, but do be all ears for. Her voice is roaring as a trumpet high in the mountains.
I remain the child of my mothers womb, and the child who’s life she cherished. The years given is your blessing from God. Even the greatest given to you was the truth by my mother and father before you. The greatest knowledge you extended to me when I was a tiny naive child. The clay must be formed and wise advice harshly given. She bestowed on me what many men lack, yet they are virtues. She instilled in me empathy, love, and kindness. She has demonstrated wisdom and bestowed to me understanding. She directed my paths unto knowledge that mankind hides. The truth that man conceals, she gave to me! There is no such love as the mother with child. Giving the greatest of all love upon this earth, for me to seek and find out. Giving what is more precious than gold and as costly more than rubies. She has delivered me from wondering to the ends of the earth as a fool. Indeed, my eyes are satisfied with seeing and my ears with hearing. What is it that I can repay such a gift? How do I repay eternity that was given to me? There is no absolute gift that could ever recount these things you have given? I am the child of my mothers womb, and she has uttered to me abundantly.
View yet, the sorrow is heavy and the tears are true. When I wake, I see you never again. When I walk yours, I will not see. Upon the shoreline your cast is invisible. I can not contemplate such things, as this mind does not foresee the whole work that is done. Sorrowful is this man as the world shows even more reality. I wish no part of being within it. My destiny is as hers and being ripped from it, and this was stolen from me. Should I not have been gone long before? Can I say the extra days are worth the possibilities of what must have been? Should have been is completely useless and equally is could have been. Should have been being indeed vanity as I lack the control of these tragedies.What good is having gold? Where does the profit of inheritance lead? Assuredly there is a dilemma in these disturbing questions? Yes, indeed to any man seeking truth? Even so, with tears I tell you these questions will remain unanswered. Absolutely, we will remain simpletons and our foolishness is unbreakable. If a man says otherwise, permit him to be the most considerable fool of them all. Yet, seeking this treasure is better than falling victim to the same world I despise and wish no part of.
There is a conclusion to all things, just as a season for every purpose under heaven. Noting this, to the poor man there is still only one conclusion to the whole matter. There is no difference for the king or the pheasant. The king with his wealth abounding among all others is no better than the poor. Mayhap the pheasant even gains more knowledge, for their life demands humbleness and lowliness. All the more, the poor are more knowledgeable than the rich. They know not what should be, except it be from the hand of God. Their dependence lies on nothing but the mana God gives liberally. What is it then that the rich should says he is above the lowly or they are greater than the humble? If righteousness be their armor and wisdom is their riches? This I hear from the wealthiest king; “this is vanity and vexation of spirit.” At this time, it is the climax and there is no other explanation of what I have said. Above all of man’s inventions this is the truth and let it not be molded into a lie.
Witness this, what was found by the minor wisdom I have obtained. Indeed received from the moments of death. Yet, it is so that I am indeed a fool. Allow no man to announce himself that he is otherwise. Unless he makes himself an unapproachable and vile human. Less his pride makes him shameful and his mouth spits forth true evil. Now See, what has came from my mothers womb!