Rambling 1

I just drop-kicked the bucket called life
Cut through the noise
with a silent knife
I washed away the blood
Of every wounded stone
In rivers of wild flowers
With sunlight soap.

Nothing’s ever straight or round
Black or white
Gray or brown
We live in such narrowly defined
cages of existance
gilded in time
locked tight with guilt, or fear.

To truly look, is not to see
But to understand something
Its infinite possibilites
To touch the cool depth of it
And burn with its inner flame
To accept every flaw
as integral to individual perfection.

Pour out your bucket
let go of what you know is true.
Open your eyes and LOOK around you.
Look into me, as I look through you.



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