Worlds of Wishes
Safe from Living the Growth of the Soul
W.B.
Preston
Where
far enough from home mere steps cannot discern true progress til
steps begin to number far larger and measure distances between the
heart and the soul, between who we are and who we were. Searching for
mountains in a world of mounds, dreams cut deeper than any knife, and
waking up lost twisting the mind backwards and up is more comforting
than waking up found forever amidst familiar surroundings of home.
The mind surges forward burning memories and using the ashes to mold
more, excited, electric, who is that, where are they, what day is it
today, which way does the sun move here? Lights illuminate unfamiliar
windows in foreign hills safe from danger, safe from life, the people
safe from living, safe from dying, safe from change, safe from the
growth of the soul spilling out over the edges of a predetermined
prepackaged, hermetically sealed sanitized existence, with out worry
or wonder, is without worlds of wishes. Or the things that feed the
spirit. Crashing hurts, but it feels good to burn, cause the soul
burns with the fires of infinity, the mind recognizes what the heart
remembers. Dangling from the point of a star, fingers losing grip,
hovering over the great beyond, how long can you hold on to nothing?
Is it insane to try to escape sanity? We are all the same, in every
way except the one that counts. The journey of conquering self is far
more challenging than the conquering of any perceived exterior
threat. The stakes are higher and the obstacles larger. The greater
the enemy the greater the hero, and what enemy is greater than the
self? For he knows you inside and out, all your weaknesses, all your
strengths, all your tricks and secrets and lies. You cannot hide from
yourself, better to face him at the summit of truth. The wars of men
are fought at the nadir of illusion, the crime of thought dancing on
the lips of the false, the horned sculptors of hell man made and sold
as sane. Marching into foreign hills and dashing away a world's wish of peace. It must be insane to watch the sane lie, manipulate, steal,
kill, mislead, degrade, horde, accuse, sentence, pollute, withhold,
execute, and ultimately hide from their victims. Do the sane feed the mouth without feeding the spirit?
These so called
captains,depicted as sane, hide from the light, from truth, from
their own dreams. They've chosen to live in a cage of nightmares, with a prepackaged hermetically sealed soul,
rather than a free prism of light, and for what? Some semblance of comfort,
some momentary fleeting resemblance of power? A placebo of control,
the only true control is control of self, the only true power is
power over self. Power or control over others, is the ego completely
out of control, and out of balance with nature and the spirit and
soul from which we all come from and share. Castles melt, money
burns, and we remain. How long can you hold on to nothing? Aim wildly for the floating drops of rain each
one individual falling and blessed with a name, screaming that we
their brethren try never to be the same,and to embrace the change in
the weather. It's okay to fall cause you'll catch you.
