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We are so far
from even the smallest
grain of knowledge;
we have not yet tasted
the sweet nectar
of truth;
yet we walk around
like proud roosters
ready to attack
anything that approaches
the coop we built
for ourselves;
we've confused the reflection
in the puddle at our feet,
for the stars in the sky


I stand on the precipice of insanity,
curiously peering over,
wondering at the feeling
of that detached air
caressing my face,
whispering in my ear;
at the attempt to lean further, 
the hands holding me
grasp my attention,
I will not dive,
not to those unseen depths,
I will not climb,
not to those blasphemous heights;
oh how I long to swim,
no, fear to drown, in those
other-wordly waters,
oh how they draw me in;
I will snap every connection
in my brain like a glowstick,
and walk in a light
none other can ever see,
I will float among the stars
of a galaxy that belongs
only to me;
I look up at the mountain
of delusion, scream
for her avalanche
to wipe me away, no,
to wipe away my chains,
to set me free;
my wrists strain 
against their chains,
no, your hands, even as
my feet leave the ground;
I will live in psychotic freedom,
bathe in deranged waters,
sup on the imaginary;
if only I can escape,
if only I can break,
the grip of reality


I've seen true beauty;
it was made,
of the most dazzling blues,
that even on a sunny day,
made the sky, look gray;
the richest browns,
so pure and fine,
that even the most
gorgeous chocolate,
grows mold in my eyes;
and the brightest white,
I cannot describe,
that to everything else,
now, I am blind


I think
we should cut
God some slack;
he went, and had,
a billion children;
I'm going crazy,
with just three


Don't be so quick
to throw off
that blanket of loneliness

An ant with its colony
never stops to think,
where am I headed?

But the heron,
lonely, wary, proud,
waits patiently,
stalking the shore;
no other chooses her nest,
no leader pulls her
to a lake,
pointing, to say:
there! fish!

I shudder at the thought
of being alone
I am repulsed by the thought
of being together

Snug in this blanket,
there is nothing left,
except to confront myself

I salute this coopers hawk
circling, lonely in the sky;
You heed none,
except death

In this temple
I'm left with no choice
but to consider myself