12 September 2014

Three Hundred and Forty-Three


So many ways we are taught and encouraged to suffer in mind,
Plus the many ways we on our own devise.
And then, of course,
There is the physical pain
That the current of physics exerts
On the nervous system traversing to an fro
In these mortally corporeal vats of biological goo.

* * * *
Before you began fabricating an identity,
You were naught but eternity, fresh from the womb of Eden.
And then you cloaked Self in a set of thoughts,
And, without further ado, forgot it all.

* * * *
What could be more yawn than sitting alone on a cloud,
Occasionally flapping a couple useless wings,
Trying to learn how to play a harp?
At least some of that fat
Might get burnt off carousing in hell.
Going to be one heck of a wild and crazy, no doubt.

* * * *
To believe, or not to believe, therein is the answer.

* * * *
In the larger picture of all things eternal,
Your final moments, however they come to pass,
Will be very much like the ones streaming by right now.

* * * *
We are all very slowly melting in the drip, drip, drip,
Of our mortally fashioned, flesh-and-bones hourglass.

* * * *
No matter how humble one may appear on the exterior,
Few are capable of transcending the illusory call to glory.
Vanity, vanity, all is vanity, for all but the most absolute.

* * * *
So much ambition, so much vanity, so much absurdity,
To be what you already are, have ever been, will ever be,
In this right here, right now, indivisible quantum mystery.