Lapwing's Song: Octave of Life

Every hymn is script-insight; igniting an emotive passion; buried within truth, immortality and light, synthesized into a transformation. Logic restricts mind with a veil; only heart can cross the chasm; inner heart yearns to climb the hill; failed logic breathes the calm. Lapwing sings the hymns of the ancient; his wings span the vast; limbs dance to the rhythm, its accent; claws hold the knowledge of the past. Symbols assist the recall, but can't express the concise; in an eclipse, the Sun loses to the dark premise. Distinct are two, what appears, what is real; varies the subtle from the causal; power comes from will, action and knowledge; unique is a walk, a sleep, a dream. In the finite, how can there be beauty; beauty lasts forever - elicits joy and love; only the infinite in bliss can be so dazzling; no delight in the finite world. Beyond time, space and causation is the world of infinite; here and there it is, the immutable.