A Happening Poem by Archaeus Six

We ask, what sanctions this,
With the sun over waters,
Rewriting dictates from fortune's mirror,
After the healing, after the storm.

Our words, that were once happening,
Are dreamed and divided,
Selecting themselves unabated,
To stand tall, through the fear.

But to where is the destination?
With the tears, and the hunger,
Are moments so final, if believed?
Or a childish power.

It's obvious to the natural,
Who's voice is ever present,
So carefully pushed aside,
In the evolving ajenda.

Few will see, the streaming ease,
That keeps the rhythm in heart,
Displaying the truth of our family,
Who suffer estranged.

Some take refuge in judgment,
Some cleave to the comedy,
But all are carried with certainty,
To where change is not choice.

While here,
Did you see it?
While here,
Did you feel it?
Or were you too busy,
With the mask.

We gave away eden,
With the dismantling of honesty,
It was in the way of image,
Of lasting control.

Even still, the balance unshakable,
Even now, the hurtful breathe,
In endless possibility,
To finally see.

In truth, as it is,
Drowned by disparate desire,
Living light without shadow,
As each piece,
Embodies all.