Torchlit

Feathers grant flight
And a torch a way
The mind
A place for thoughts
And the pen a page

A bird to sing in songs
With no words or names

An arrow not made for quivers
Nor a bow nor its string
But to host a grouping
On target
Nearest to a mark for pride

While questions selfishlessly seek no truth
Wisdom gives no reason nor answer
It only shows the way
For that which is sown is reaped
Giving humanity no chance to hold it to blame
The human condition
Is to capture and ensnare
To trap and hunt
To deceive and mislead
To hold all things in contempt
And to beleive all things false

As fire is hot and ice is cold
And water is wet
So is the certainty of the human senses
Limited to what it sees and what
It believes to know

In outerspace
Fire is cold and ice is hot
And water is vapor
And humanity has no time