I am awake
and waiting to awake.
This nature of being
being within nature.
Fog swallows the landscape
the knowledge I desire to swallow.
Cold clear dead sky wavers
reality wavers between life and death.
I am awake in the evening
therefore the evening has awakened.
I see the black sky
the black sky sees me.
Surface of the sun chaotic, scorching
the chaos created through thought and religion.
The collective belief fuels the machine
we run from the machine destroying the empty fields.
The minds struggle with system-less existence
we fight the tangled matrix and system of control.
Deep sleep through atmospheric storms
the minds’s deep shaft yet to reach the core.
I stand at the ocean lapping at the fields edge
with no definition and I struggle to know which
I am actually within and which I should walk towards.
The sun has risen low in the cloudless sky
yet I am surrounded by purples, oranges, and reds.
An artists palette held by the one hand I cannot see
outside the eyes, and I imagine St Peter’s painted ceiling.
Have you met the great artists forced
to an earthly bond now free with infinite
colors and brushes, the sky river, and land canvas?
