Desert Crossing, a Poem by Jeremy Matthews

A king that is an island unto himself, found his loyal longing friendship reached beyond what he wanted in immediate friends. He'd mixed himself in the sort of the masses. All's he wanted the masses to understand was one's souls need to watch the river flow in unity with one self. The fool laughed at the king and bespoke of why the thought he hearkened became a melodious tune that rhymed beyond time. You reached to inspire and singed from the fire and kept reaching as it burned you to bleeding upon the land the abundance that you've given all away. The king replied ask me how to get back from being the fool to being the king to being the same I were born? Ask me how the sun could never rise, fall and rise again and I'll call you the biggest fool of all. The sand never sank the sun as if a talent were a gift from God, what good is it if you don't give it away? You can't keep what flows through you from above it wouldn't be flow, everything that flows goes back to where it starts. This may well be a humble fool telling of the greathearted inside himself. How many would take the long route over the short route to be mated where only fools will go. I've waited to long for too many each one thought to be the one to love above the rest of humanity but their is no love without humanity so lets put the greathearted in the cage with the lion and throw the key away where no one will find it. Do you think anybody can love a fool to be the key to the greathearted to be accepting of the imperceptible germination of manifestations in processions of radiating beauty resounding love found to be the only continuum beyond time. What if the lion and the heart work together? I think they'll tear the cage apart and have freedom in unison to tell of the greathearted. All I know is the longer goodwill is kept up the more it's reciprocated. I don't want to be in this cage keeping me invisible, lets inspire and burn the past away and yet keep what moved us forward with a stronghold on ourselves to be matched presence of inner content for the sand never sank the sun. All these poems about kings and warriors and loves beseeching mark some countenance, I have been a fool a time or two in turbulent persona falling not from grace, words move the air, take flight on winged thoughts and yet some set apart from wits in the pits wishing it hadn't as such been said on such ignominious tongue spewing idolatry in an idle tone identifying ideals opposed what's to be done for words must align to action, be it ever so likely that something should be that likely if it's not that likely that something should be that likely? I'll take an act of grace in silence lest a fool not know we are all fools at times with irrelevant considerations or over extended considerations or no consideration and a wise fool once said, "one cannot learn if they they think they already know" acceptance is key, no prejudgments gone awry, let promising acts from thoughts in grace bring action with honor because the sand never sank the sun.