His thought; desire; that driving dream he knew;
so real within his heart and living soul;
the thing he took and fed until it grew,
into the part of life that made him whole;
by doing things that people seldom do
to make it real, and reach his cherished goal!
For who but fools, whose minds are now in tune,
would take a thought, and bounce it off the moon?
If given wings; by one who's gone insane
with lunar madness, loose in universe;
his wish for life would search each hidden plane,
and seek more levels where he might immerse
in pools of knowledge, cleansing every stain,
bleached on his mind by times eternal curse!
And damp with truth, before his mind can rust,
he dries in clouds of flowing cosmic dust!
His world is silent, everywhere he goes,
and dreams he holds so dear, stare silently,
at passersby, who greet him, but he shows,
no recognition to the ones who'd be
some of the ones to take the truth he knows,
and bring him back from where he's flying free!
But don't know how to reach this paranoid,
nor find the things that make his feelings void.
It's plain for them to see, he's not all there,
but lunar madness doesn't cross their minds,
and ships of soul, don't take them anywhere;
perhaps too busy with their daily grinds
to think of flying free form any care,
and seeking many worlds of other kinds!
That he has found by leaving body still,
protected by his knowing mind, and will.
He'll watch the pouring rain, and snowflakes fall,
and bolts that light the sky, in summer storm,
to see the wisdom theree within them all,
as puzzles come together and to form
a tool to shatter down his prison wall,
that's kept him from a life that's soft and warm!
But as he sees the things before his eyes,
the other part of him still seeks, and flies
so free of chains that bind him far below;
the part behind, that's waiting for the end;
or waiting for the wisdom he will know,
return of one, his kind and loving friend;
that once set free, would only come and go,
far from the one who let it first ascend!
Not knowing once he set their powers free,
that lunar madness plagues him, constantly.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2017