430
Truth is not
something for which you must petition permission to discern.
You are on your own,
all alone in an odyssey of Self-discovery
Within the infinite
essence of the quantum sea.
* * * *
Curious how the rich,
the famous, the powerful,
Bask in the adulation
and envy, or disparagement, of the masses.
Everyone on one path
to glory or another.
It is a monkey thing.
* * * *
Life, long no matter
how short, short no matter how long.
* * * *
Alas for the sciences
that they shall never discern
The very first moment
consciousness
Separated from Eden.
* * * *
You are bound in
dreamtime
Until the samsara of
consciousness
Has played itself out
in you.
* * * *
To destroy a fellow
earthling
Without cause,
purpose, or meaning,
So much unnecessary,
unwarranted suffering,
For what, really?
* * * *
This garden world
owes you nothing.
It provided the seed,
and you are doing with it
Whatever the dreamy
space-time of consciousness wills.
* * * *
The course humankind
has taken is not all that rousing anymore.
The petri dish is
getting too trashed, too crowded,
Too predictable, too
absurd.
It is all vanity,
And there is really
no way out
But for the rarest,
most astutely discerning,
Who can, in the face
of any temporal sensory temptation,
Maintain a steadfast
immortal presence in the eternal “so it goes” of it all.
