Emanation of Truth

I danced with chaos

Spontaneous order

A synchronised explosion

What of the butterfly that flaps its wings?

For in creating

You have to be the creation first

And in loving

You have to be love first

And in being inspiring

You have to be inspired first

And if every particle has a purpose

Then there is purpose in every being

Unemotional faces

Internal states of disorder

Since when was confusion a crime?

Lock the mad men up

Watch the pendulum swing

Yet, your time is set in stone

Running from place to place

Yet never really going anywhere

For in a state of disorder

We become emanations of truth

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