Wednesday, 6 April 2016

Inverted transcendence

Always evolving beyond the natural of physics,
we can no longer tell the difference
but know that it’s growing
whatever it may be

Must have been simpler
to foresee God’s open arms
like a paved way
to transcend
with mellow tranquility

My thoughts exactly
as I paved the way
with a joint
waiting for the shrooms

to reinvent existence,
slightly cheating
if you ask the ascetics,
I don’t

My rules are written
on the blank canvas
of the background space

but I can’t agree
to being born that way
You see, a child is more
like everything than nothing

The position, in stead, is blank,
a child would have to agree,
there are no familiar shapes
in the topography everything
from an all new perspective

The strangest thing is nothing,
all too familiar,
ultimately like a homing beacon
making everything an illusion
that’s the homogeny at work,
unfolding desolate

I would suggest that further
dimensions are natural,
it must have felt like
even the third was paranormal
when the child discovered
the world wasn’t a canvas

Others aren’t still convinced,
they say all is but God
and no further discussion is required
or welcome

that we have been shut
into ourselves
for the coming eternity;
the soul is an individuation
and because it’s ideal
it’s infinite

I just can’t agree,
a bummer it would be
I suggest rather use the back door,
it’s open if you are
just look inside

but don’t expect nothing,
expect everything,
dosed according to the whim of winds

It’s not beyond
but below

You see,
grace, the soul
is always assigned
to outer characteristics,
some observable trait;
She’s kind and loving, see,
but doesn’t fool me

The soul is an illusion if something,
a shroud worn for the occasion of death,
but you can never tell
when the spectre comes,
so you are always dressed to go

Unless it caught you
on a bad moment,
pants down,
as if you weren’t eternal
on the moments of release
and relieve

It’s the animal that dies,
they say, leaving nothing
but it’s the animal
that has been
and can never be undone

You see, time is movement
and the animal moves
even if you didn’t
but you’re no stone angel,
are you?

And even if I sit here,
I might have escaped,
beneath that shroud,
unworthy but transcending cumulatively
for more regions to come

Cut off like you
and alone

but I allow for more
than just myself.

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