Employ

Mila Kunis 

with Howard Stern on Ashton Kutcher


Employ
Joy
喜びを雇う
Yorokobi o yatou
ps124

Dead skin cells float near the back of your eyes.
These phantom images aren't quite the right size
to make pigs fly but my oh my.

Circular squibs look out on the world.
Like projections they float from the sea of pearls.
These tiny shadows affect your sight
in a way that might not be right.

I stand on the shore
near the surf generated roar.

There within my hand
slide the tiny bits of sand.
They fall toward the land
of particulate delight.
These retain shape in sight
when it is light
but not too bright.

Like sand in the hourglass
gravity shows movement pass
as a measure of time moving past
each moment passing the last
until the sand stands fast in forever's grasp.

Moment by moment
time foments
the growth of experience
in existence for subsistence.

The nature of things is such
that atoms make this stuff.

All things are made of atoms.
While they can't be seen, they can be fathomed.

Down beneath the visible form
lie the tiny bits that shape the norm
and let you see the worms 
squirm.

Lull to a rest the savage works of war
that make our industry look like a whore. 
Love has power with public peace to aid mortality
to avoid the total fatality of vitality.

Even the work of battle
falls to the chattel of her prattle.

The sun stood still.
The shadow of the moon caused a chill.
It was all quite a thrill.

Time was not killed
but it skipped a trill
in the whirling mill.

Seconds turned to minutes.
Minutes weren't the finish.

The clock tower
rang the number for the hour.

The hours turned to days.
Days became a week of rays.

The weeks became months.
Moonlit gravity played more than once.

The months turned tears to years.
Our fears proved too dear
to adhere.

All will be made clear
if you'll just come over here.

See you later 
Allie Gator.

In a while 
you crock of bile.

Is it true
that no one waits for you?

All will be made clear in the fullness of mind.
I look forward to the arrival of such a time.

If faith had not been for something better
than profit from munition's chain letter,
conflict would have to say
to defend our way
is not worth the pay
for the play.

If love had not been for life
existence would not know escape from strife.

Adversity would swallow that which is alive.
Enemies would not have to strive.

The rage of water would have overwhelmed us.
There would be nothing left  to discuss.
What a bust!

We prayed that we would not be made into prey.
We were saved.

Was it only chance that saved us?
We hope for more. Our faith does not fuss
much over such.

We have escaped from the snare of the fowler.
Like a bird, flight gives us power.

All that we see or seem
is more than a dream within a dream.

The love that saves us from harm is benign.
The love that saves us from destruction is sublime.

Had there not been the experience of ineffable joy
there would be nothing to deter the will to destroy.

Life would not feel like it is worth 
the effort to make a living with work.

The love that saves us from malice is blessed.
The love that saves us from murder is addressed
as a profoundly professed quest to do our best
to prevent prematurely eternal rest.

Let all those who have been harmed now say
had love not been with us to belay or allay
worse when we were being attacked 
we would have been sacked
or swallowed alive by grief.
There would be no relief.

Their anger was ignited against us.
They took advantage of our trust.

The raging waters would have carried us away.
The mad rushing surge of urgency would have swept us to the bay.

The tumbled rumble of boss in liquid toss crossed
would have cast us against hard objects for our loss.

We escaped the trap that was set for us.
The deception was exposed to sight with a windy gust.

The divisive vice has been broken.
The essential essence of life has been spoken.

The love that saves us from harm is benign.
The love that saves us from destruction is sublime.