Www Poem by Edward Webb

Unfurled from a construct of a human reality,
A reality filled with minds collect
in electrical lanes, not synaptic of thought,
until bought from a store by a searched endeavour,
to increase with haste to finger tips,
knowledge of unmeasurable power
definitive as life all be it paradoxically
contains the collect inclusive
So true that are deemed clad in insnity.

Even this augmentation of a conscious real,
has the evil work of the devil
balancing freedom that is good to feel,

people whom be touched
by another choice to view,

these thoughts that others cant
within the mind of but you,
a fact Now made untrue,
collectively join and wings explore,
that have grown from a previous unknown shore,

yet they chart deep seas of a souls unknown,
and some are lost
forever stricken in these virgin depths
waters never meant for their souls decree,
both body-to-soul apart can drown,
out in this black sea.

Now apart of human kinds being,
and sewn is it
as a knowledge sharing,
as ease of a fact is now open to any mind whom chose caring,

Yet a fact strewn from an effortless cocoon,
Is a knowledge unlearnt or earned
To a juvenile mind,
There fore the opposite to each fact made blind,
And some in haste fall trapped in a foreign seemed mind,
and get stuck in the web like the fly which the spider bind

the spider that threaded this geometric web,
goes by the name of war its said,

for in the aim of a gain over another,
come the temperate days set in future,
means advancements developed to kill a brother,
now are put to betterment of all other.
The spider of three letter
even put the frame work of her threads
up to heights so man touched the aged lunar created beds,
with a catalyst to technological advancement
of beat the other, we must be better

a race ended
in a win for all
collect in aims made together
acheived as a planetary endeavour,
and not a power drawn over another,
a blue moon moment where all conscious minds work together.

We as guests have made from a suns power,
the means to destroy in a final earths hour
all that be on our loving mother

this power the dam that mutual clads
one man to the other,
advancement to a point that dare not man use in haste on one another,
for could one button galvanised to launch
push a defensive to a worlds end offensive.
defending but the destruction of a defensive,
the feathered bird perched in a soul called hope,
keeps to that damed power that should of never,
been given to life that is aware of one another,

and this hope bird wont flight in wing so making lived a never,
balder and plucked of every pure last feather,
as the end of days mean she has no point to sing one heart to the other