Violence ( Goya “The Third of May 1808”) –

Real love is a permanently self-enlarging experience.

The brain – then brush here celebrate that long red stain seeping the universe.

Was not the chink of light peeping between the walls of birth – of death transient enough? – and yet this trivial massacre must shorten it.

And only one protests – that man white-shirted – arms upraised in one last gesturing of affirmation.

If he had got the time he might be singing – might tell them that life still has its treasuries to open for him at least – perhaps for them.

But these are no times for song, only that flinging of his arms is yet permitted him, and all his dazzling white and blaze-dark eyes are but a silhouette against the symmetry of dying.

One moment hence or rather but a millionth of a moment and life will be a full stop – filled with blood. ~

Violence ( Goya “The Third of May 1808”) –

By Peace Truth

Life is like a bunch of roses. Some sparkle like raindrops. Some fade when there's no sun. Some just fade away in time. Some dance in many colors. Some drop with hanging wings. Some make you fall in love. The beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Life you can be sure of, you will not get out ALIVE.(sorry about that)