Mother of my life
Tears of stay from my wife
My neglect a cruel knife
To her and all give strife.

You know more of life than me
And love you yearn for patiently
This comes to you naturally
Because your heart feels more than me.

Outside of us was, is, and will be wrenching chaos
Where all sanity is lost
So you invite me to love at all costs
Yet my lust gave you no pause.

You know too well our souls must fuse
And uniting of hearts love is used
Being one we withstand the chaos that ensues
This loving soul to eternity will not lose.

So now I wipe your tears again
Your side I will never leave again
And if now you don’t find me again
In time I will find you again.

We will be one again.

I would like to personally invite you to pause a minute to say a short prayer to those who died in the Virginia Tech shooting. It is appalling how many people have died before their time and have suddenly blundered into the afterlife, confused and longing for the familiarity of loved ones. Grief for the bereaved will reverberate in the world. A prayer, that's all.

Evolution of the species actually came not from the chance adaptation of plants and animals to their environments and food sources but rather from their consciousness that comes once a year, plant and animal years, that is. When they become self-aware, they think of how to make changes in themselves so that they and their offspring can survive in the wild. It is also the time when they make peace with each other. But before anything else, they do something to start the very first sunrise of the day of their becoming conscious or sentient, as you science folks call it.

Mr. Snail was just having his consciousness for the very first time when he heard the garden patch was full of sounds of voices from other neighbors who were busy doing vocalizations while the stars were slowly fading in the horizon.

"Do re mi fa..." warbled Ms. Poinsettia, waving her leaves as she went.
"Do...do!" boomed Mr. Frog, dwarfing and startling Mr. Snail as he slid by.
"Doe a deer..." crooned Mrs. Hen, who might've been as old as Julie Andrews but just as charming.
"Why are they doing this?" wondered Mr. Snail, his eye stalks bending every which way. Dew caressed his smooth head, gently falling from Ms. Violet doing soprano notes. An older snail stopped his humming and approached Mr. Snail.
"First morning as a conscious being?" asked Senior Snail.
"Guess so. I started noticing myself and others while the moon was at the zenith."
"Okay. I don't want to spoil the surprise for you, but you'll know what's this all about in a few moments."
"Tell me, Sir, why are you all seem like practicing your voices?"
"Quiet, it's coming any moment now. Listen."
"Listen to what?" Mr. Snail pressed, having the impatience of a new born child.
"Here He comes!" Senior Snail began a Pavarotti tenor tune, soothing notes flowing one after the other. Mr. Snail heard splendid sublime voices sounding like Josh Groban, Charlotte Church, and hearing the others, the Christmas Choir. Then, the sun rose, banishing the darkness, bathing the cool misty ground and the outspread green leaves and colorful flowers with gentle rays scattering into prismatic light of rainbow colors that seem to pulse in time with the adoring songs.

For Mr. Snail, it was the most beautiful sunrise he has ever seen. His eyes cried tears of joy as the most beautiful songs came from fellow creatures singing praise to the effulgent Maker on the first morning of consciousness.

I wrote this as a reaction to a book by Jules Ayer that discounts the metaphysical knowledge capability of man, that is, knowing beyond experience, a priori knowledge, or the possibility of knowing God, Spiritual life. I'd say this is institutionalized atheism taught in philosophy subjects in America.

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The finiteness of the intelligence of man is the assurance that there will always be something that is in existence that is not known by man hence the existence of things not experienced and fully comprehended. Such are a priori knowledge that men can suspect as factual yet untouched by senses. Or by science.

Let not man delude himself that everything that is true and factual is only known by empirical means, that what one can known can only be revealed by the five senses. How many times have you believed someone without seeing what seeing what that one has told? For empiricists would have man limit knowledge to this doomed world whereas it is the stuff of dreams that men can reach the stars and the origin of all.

With tears I pray for and contemplate
The flood of tears and blood in Mesopotamia
Cries for crimes that cry unto Caliphate
Human hears bombarded with psychic melanoma.

Stanch the wound blazing crimson flames
Before the firestorm knocks at your cozy heaven
Amputate the indifference that maims
Before skyscrapers get leveled by craven.

I ask forgiveness for and repose for the souls
Blasting their flesh and incinerating innocence
Hardening the human morphing into ghouls
Threatening heaven while making no sense.

Close the gates opening in the oily ground
Before more beings spread the attack
Chain the neck of the hellish hound
Heaven around must survive Iraq.