Worlds of Wishes Safe from Living the Growth of the Soul

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.