Stretch your hands forward and gaze beyond it's reach,
And then ask yourself what do you see?

Those many eyes surrounded by your presence speak,
but they are leaves followed by the winds that past by your will,
and their blockade will only seep through like cloth against water.

Does a lion faint or fear by the sound of any creatures it stumbles upon,
Let alone does a squeaky mouse not follow it's instinct to hide?

Not even Goliath can take your deeds,
nor can anyone stand by the front of your palm to dictate your will.

For your action is a will of your own, and your's alone,
For you have only the person in the mirror to resolve!

Shimmering fire roar like lion in it's den,
The brute force of a single swing cut like doubled edged sword.

Such is the might of the great leader stand firm,
And the their voice solid like anvil,
while exuberance protrude with their sharp tongue.

They are the primal males who would rule,
And bend or shape all things into a form!

For all those leads must clear the rough edges,
And some edges will cut so deeply.

So deeply the edges cut even the royalty to bend their knees,
And like Achilles with arrow in his heels limp.

To the den the lion crawl with roar dimming of radiance,
And fire of the candles seize just as he draws the final breath!

Coming into credence of the surrounding,
As the perpetual cycle met like a race track.

Current presence dim lightly with another solstice beckon,
As winter takes the sunlight for yet another annual walts,
While moonlight hover more frequently to a sound of a violin.

The inner heart wrapped around a blanket,
Cozied by the sleep of hibernation like camp fire.

The beats come into a trance,
And radiance come to a halt by the darkness,
For it is the reign of fall that cover sun like a shrouded veil.

Such is the time of gloom come to a reflective meditation,
For all imagery end with a last note of a piano,
And seared thoughts say good bye with the vibration of it's strings!

Often time riddled with questions and philosophies of those days of professor's lecture in college campuses, and to this day have not forgotten my lessons in those class rooms of social, or psychological behaviors.

Does truth always equate to goodness of righteous path,
Or is it the belief of one's faith that dictate what truth should be?

If so then does truth sincerely matter and should it be forced like mathematical equations with one singular answer, or come in terms that truth is in the eyes of beholder?

Like the internet sensation that brought debate of the color of the dress,
What is truth to you maybe wrong to others, so then does truth matter?

As grains fall from the hour glass,
I become more convinced that arguing for the "right" way is as much of a joke to those who see you wrong for your choices!

Sometime laughing at the indifference maybe the golden rules of life,
For lies, and truth is in the measurement of experiences!
Sometimes giving a warm smile is end all and be all!

The voice of clarity with sense of sanity rolled into serenity!
Laughter felt sublime, echoed intellectual chime, to lose you is a crime!

Satirism at it's core, many comedic lore, and we wanted more!
You're the gift of expression, opening repression, exploring oppression!

You were human shimmer, with hope of glimmer, now void of dimmer.
Who shall take your place, raising question of race, to move in your pace.

God send Jon Stewart, may your legacy echo for eternity