The Search

Our conscience mind is a curse.

Spurred forth by senses that deceive.

No agent can stay the suffering.

No remedy can kill the pain.

Injustice wears the crown of Kings,

And the streets respect only brutality.

People are enamored with cruelties.

And the good deeds of many are lost to the sea.

There is no way to disturb the gears.

For centuries, across empires, the richest hopes of song;

Die as they were birthed, beneath the ground of the earth.

And

All that remains is the elephant graveyard

A cold wind that howls, wordlessly, through the mammoth skeletal remains

The mighty towers of steel and intellect have crumbled into the sea

The dreams of men only the whispers of rain

But Love exists.

Not as an escape but as a chance to be Free

It requires more of us than us of it

It demands our pain to return it again,
More alive, more complete.

But it hands us the power to rewrite our fates,

And it guides our Self through the infernos of hell.

Accept Love. Devour of its feast. Provide it freely the joy it will eventually take.
And
Learn from love what it brings.

…Relax.

Dream.
&
Play.

Yes, child, Play.