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Poem
Decorating
 
“But what is real? If you mean those impulses and signals sent by your senses 
and which are then interpreted by your brain. Then the real can be anything 
your mind desires.” 

Morphius. 
The Matrix.
 
When a child opens its eyes
Awareness blossoming 
New upon the day
Does it then envision 
A clean blank page
To be coloured 
To be decorated as it desires
Should all those hues and images
Then be given a name

Yet 

What would be 
If the child could see
Things that were not the same
 
In each and every second
These myriad patterns of light 
React
To thoughts born from learning
Labelled with a voice which says “this” is 
This 
And “that” is 
That
 
Yet a blank page emerges 
Each and every single day
But written and coloured 
By acceptance 
In the same new way
But 
What if for a moment 
You dream
And decorate your world 
Differently
 
What then would the eyes of the liberated 
See
Would they see the world 
As is
Or see repainted coherency
Or would there be
A moment of birth 
Where awareness 
Sees through 
And beyond reality
And sees with the eyes 
of a newly born 
Child
 
A daily place of spirit 
Life and light
A spoken place 
Where all form 
Takes on the form 
Of the heavenly blank page 
Of light 
Where on 
Is written 
All possibility
And your mind 
Decorating 
The universe infinitely
 
Or will mere whim transform 
To what it might be
The photons and the fabric of stars
Could we then hold creations dust 
In our palms
And with a breath of splendour 
Puff beauty into being
 
Should thought 
Become a brush stroke then
Would we sweep and stride 
With such a capable hand
The essence of magnificence 
A new world
To greet 
Our waking eyes
  
Or is this 
What we have come to see
The ballet of light as it settles 
Within us 
Daily
Some other wonder
Some other hand 
Which says
See what I have wrought for you 
From the physical tongues of 
Eternity
 
But I know you 
People of Earth
And I know the multitude of your dreams
And how 
Given the power of your imaginings
You could decorate so diversely 
All these things 
Which seem now so 
Ordinary
 
Is it but a moment
A second 
Of perception
Or a reaction
Predetermined by acceptances 
Indoctrination

What where those things 
We began to see
When as a new born child 
Our eyes first 

Opened
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