fauxcroft

Control of self is letting go

Who are we? Do we know?

In this world I think being,

Is more than enough

If it’s entangled with doses of love,

And the art and meaning

Of being authentic and real,

Does anyone know real inner peace

And do you ever scream and feel,

As though you’re doing it in a vacuum

Where nothing is ever truly real,

Have ever tried to explore and peel

Away all the layers of your conditioning,

To find the authenticity of your own Armageddon

Created by the blindness of parenting,

That is meant well but that leads to submission,

So what’s the ethos of what is really life

I think at the core it’s about doing right,

In a world brutal and wrong,

Though understanding it is all illusory

We are just writing our own unique stories,

And living it out in our consciousness

While forgetting that it is not real,

That’s the golden rule that starts to congeal,

Scabbing over the raw wound that we are non-existent,

Except in our minds and stories of which we become resistant,

And kid ourselves that this life is not a lie because we feel,

Based if I kick you between the legs you will squeal,

Or is that just a scripted reaction that we put in

Ignore me if it seems that I may grin,

But you found the biggest trap in life and then jumped in,

And as you do, any knowledge starts erasing

As you drift into the illusion of your own  star gazing,

That makes you believe in the story that your writing is actually real.