Ottava Rima, And Not a Very Good One

White is the space, the outside of myself
Black is the part I fill with my belief
All my writing ends in nothing else
but this purusha and this prakrti.
When asked which of the world's scenes we'd be near
if we could be near any, but one forever,
we choose where food and beauty would always be
We think of purusha and prakrti.

A savannah with a wide river clear
and animals who wander through the day
is where when asked all children everywhere
responded they would most desire to play.
The savannah ensures our span of life
will run as long as we would like to be
and running, spend our days as free as kites
dancing upon the string of prakrti.