Satan

Religion says, we all have our own Satan
The art of life is, to recognize him/her/it
Satans destroy, if they can
Then it's said, implore God, to stay fit

Satan is there to test
Perhaps, years later, we discover
Satan wasn't the worst, but the best
And was only goodness' cover

It's the one thing we don't know
We're confronted, powerless
To the one who tries to make bow
Those too tired to wipe out a mess

Sooner or later we'll see & hear
Satan is nothing other than
A persistent bird reaching the ear
Focus otherwise we hopefully can

Listen differently is all we can
Shift focus in given environment
May be more heroic than
Just changing the firmament

Because our main lesson is:
There's always a Satan
Succession is their whizz
Flexibility, energy, does straighten

Cocoon

People can't eat money & Promises don't feed love
True, we're not entitled to be happy
It's not what we want to be deprived of

We have a duty towards ourselves
Our own, but also others' happiness
And, we like to protect ourselves
From inflicting & incurring bleakness

People may not want to inflict a thing
That doesn't always count
Tangible damage it may bring
We hope to enjoy, not to surmount

An era always needs & is ending soon
Efforts hopefully weren't in vain
From being wrapped up in a cocoon
It's time for take off in a fresh plane

Doors

Some doors are a figure of speech
They block advanced knowledge to some
The boldest and smartest can breach
Boundaries that leave others numb

Other doors open to new realms
They give option to some creatures
New perspective excites or calms
All is destined to new ventures

People, animals lock their world
Even plants use theirs for the same
Creatures like their lives safely furled
No others need to see the game

Freedom is ample with limits
And still, not everyone fits

After Winter

The Sun appears to be moving upward
Business may have been downward
Winter may be a metaphor
For the wheel of fortune's down tour
When people had to be on their guard

The heart may have tumbled downward
Still ruffled, it may hope for a reward
Its gloomy rooms restore their splendor
With Sun light entering an open door

It's good to be able to live off-guard
Spending leisure time in a yard
And not having to close the door
Yet, fortune not often changes the core
Winter situations may be hard
Spring Sun is the returning trump card

Seeming Imperfection

The year is 365 & a 1/4 days
Some of us, can't celebrate birthdays
Every year, which is a bit unhandy
Once every 4 years, some get the candy
Perfection wasn't made to just suit our ways

Polar Song II

Upside & downside will change place
It's never each other they chase
It's each other's energy they need
From each other they can't be freed
It's nature's compulsory embrace

Some shapes & objects can displace
Only as one & the same face
Likewise, some creatures, on each other feed
In the downside of time, it was agreed

Repulsion & attraction work in space
The soul is an invisible waves' base
A force is objective, without greed
Endings become beginnings, as decreed
Our fortune, we must bear it with grace
Upside always rolls downside in the race

Change in Creation

What we see around us, is perfection
What if it could: Change in creation
You & me could start as humans
Then, it would be possible to make plans
Towards challenging variation

This sounds like a tempting extension
Yet, it will lead to deception
What if a new shape doesn't enhance
What we see for us as a good chance

Examples may cause reflection
A retriever becomes a dalmatian
A horse changes into tin cans
Stones or feathers, once were humans
Moon & Earth loose their rotation
What we see for us, will be frustration

Miracles

Creation is at its very best
Within strict laws, nature knows no rest
Won't we love to witness a miracle
That nature overcomes an obstacle
Only to then see it can't be processed

Of walking the water, scriptures attest
Ships' privacy would be dispossessed

Crossing a rainbow on bicycle,

As creation's non-fitting particle

We can turn around East & West
But, eating fire is a failed quest
There's a mystery to each miracle
As it breaks a compulsory cycle
As if with the truth can be messed
Now, creation is at its best