The broken locks that kept him from himself at bay.
The frozen clocks; It told him that he went astray.
Away from grace… A traceless trace
To lead him down the dreary docks.
Of what he can & can’t embrace.
That man who’s made of mud, & clay,
& fire & rain & peace & pain & soul that’s kept from him at bay!
Those broken Locks! Those Frozen Clocks!

His soul kept fighting -A fire igniting;
An ocean that swore to tear these rocks.
A song so deep, that knew no sleep.
A rose so mellow, a festive fellow.
No matter how fear may creep.
His smile will persevere down deep
& break the locks & freeze the clocks.
Though none could see his surging soul.
Their charts were wrong,
In fear, In pain, their belief did rule.
In locks & clocks their faith was strong.
Yet the shards around his soul did throng.
That around his soul were solid proof.
That locks are never shatterproof.

That the soul once awake won’t stay at bay,
& thus will never turn astray.
That the soul shall always know no sleep.
That the soul shall never cease to surge.
No matter how the locks went deep.
Into its whole it shall emerge…

 

The part always has a tendency to reunite with its whole in order to escape from its imperfection.
Leonardo da Vinci, Collected Notebooks, Part XIX. Philosophical Maxims. Morals. Polemics and Speculations.
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