Anarchy incited by consciousness divides deeply
rather than conquer those already sleeping
evermore the same, those who have, who have not
shills at a game of chance fill the room, persuasion the game
populated backstories idealize and idolize submission
turned up volume can’t let me think I can do anything about it
take my word for it...you’re mine...heartbeats synchronized
oh, how sweet it is to be loved by you...
Poisoned in the great well, Lucky Charms soothe
I remember, I forget and so the wheel turns...those
who do wake up sometimes it seems go back to...
my heart, if really mine, saddens to think the gold is only
water paint and it too shall run away...
I wrote this after reading about Osho...what happens to our Guru’s or beings
of great spirit? Does our society mock and loosen their fabric of gilt? Does it become the fabric of guilt? I know not...I wish I could see from this vantage point beyond the illusion of this world...from this protected innocence...I crave knowing the truth...
Copyright © Cynthia Cross | Year Posted 2019
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