As if you tether the thesis
I posit you with lines and signs
as if eternity could be planned
hasten you with delimited maxims
may there be a strain
in my heart that echoes
will it dwell needful in my tone?
amidst burns
angle, design, logic
lie the ashes of
had been, is, would be
Written: September 28, 2022
Age is relative on how you feel.
Gray hairs are not indicative of aging.
Wisdow is not delimited by a number.
Conscious mind
is limited;
sub-conscience mind
delimited,
superconscious mind
unlimited—
veiled realm that
touches and enshrouds,
mass of knowledge:
infinite…pervasive…absolute.
What has been,
is now
or yet to be
lies here,
commended by
eternity’s blessing.
Cannot be seen,
yet watches.
Cannot be touched,
but feels.
Cannot be heard,
but listens.
Though pervasive,
yet is glimpsed by few.
And still,
presumption
that our senses
will attune to
this exalted realm,
we lift our pens
and sit to write
a masterpiece.
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