Clearness of the mind, a deletion of everything
including any structure, leaves nothing
behind but the dust of skeleton bones
of what I could suppose used to be me.
The skies are painted grey, not a single light
ray displaying the true whisper of life.
A moment in time, the catching of realization of the mind
that colors lie, giving us something to judge life on
when if fact we are of all the same matter,
floating forms moving to the rhythm of heaven’s beat.
Creation of sore insight to the brighter side of the mind,
actually leads to a darkness to the mind,
a darkness that allows us to compare the full daylight
as being the brightest of bright,
in the perception of the retina to the mind.
Swerving in this darkness, swimming in lakes,
breaths taken only once, and failing to configure the stroke,
we fall downwards, arms up to the dark heavens.
Swimming in lakes of sadness, puddles of shame,
and oceans of tears, we continue, adding more to the
sadness of all humans, a continuous river pulling you to the end.
Upstream, leads us out of this pain,
and human will tells us to fight the rain
and the smell of decay,
upstream leads the heart.
Follow we will, nature hard against us,
I know for I have been there before,
the turmoil and deceit of the voices within oneself,
the fights, the disagreement over what is the truth.
Backstabbing, side jabbing, killing straight up, it’s all the
same, the death of each voice’s part.
Just let the heart stay alone in the end.
Toward the opening the skies, darkness leads to
grey clouds, that get greyer and greyer,
your heart stronger and stronger, or weaker and weaker,
forward, the endless stream, it is no longer upward,
but against the pull of nature to be like so many that
fake their lives. You know it is not the correct path, though
it is so much easier.
The grey to the white, and then the cotton feathers,
the floor of the heavens. And finally, the sunshine,
the sunshine, the warmth of the heavens. The ground awakes to
lift you upward, truth within the skies.
Clearness of the mind, realization of what is weak,
building upon yesterday’s sorrows,
to travel through tomorrow’s furrows.
That is the faith I have in me.
mary
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