My heart would write of justice and polite concern by all men one for another. Alas, the dreams of men who would be content in nonexistent peace is a daft and lawless order. Once seeing our reflection yet turning away and forgetting our identity leaves us bereft of confident application. If I know the thing that is right yet have neither the charisma nor constitution to sponsor it materialization of what power may I claim my wisdom?

We yearn for the things seen in the blessed hands of other men and cannot look asunder. Ill content with the scarcity and poverty of my own failed grace I must spin and disrupt the healthy lives of those who have surrendered before their maker or their fate. I have enough, but is that enough quite enough to stem the lusts for more? How do I pretend around the innocent that I do not wish to consume for personal moments of happiness all they are given?

What horrific saga plays nightly in the minds of men that they cannot simply observe a thing a innocence or beauty without the ensuing moments of washing it down with an aperitif having finely crunched it to prattle in our ravenous jaw? Must every butterfly entering vision be stomped, crush or pounded into oblivion? What then the loving mirrors of mankind in love? Are music, dance and laughter implausible?

Oh, that I have forgotten all those things which were taught to be somehow socially acceptable, lost in the rubble of lives broken, tossed away or swallowed by the greed within our bodice. The smell closer to my heart repels and rebukes our understanding and self-observance. For all my magical or gleefully accounted acts of noble and fine intent, the revelation of my self is putrid as the open can of garbage.

It would not be that bad if it were only my heart infected, but it is the collective heart of man that disturbs me so. We posture and pester believing ourselves worthy yet in a moment of reflection reality reveals the malcontent and infectious disease that still infects our human heart and understanding. Until the innocent are inviolate and protected with ample mercy then the putridity persists, but we seek to do first and then analyze. How brilliant the possibility to think before we act?