Is it Light, or is it Dark?
I'm living in a dream.
The dream is me.
I think there is a you.
I want to have more.
There's no more to have.
There's nothing to have.
Everything is light.
Then why is it so dark down here?
Why does the Bridge to Ascension
seem like an endless curving children's slide
that ends down in Hades?
Hades, decorated with fluffy clouds, New Age harpists and channelers,
all proclaiming the great Change is Here!
Amen, no more growth needed,
grace will tap you on the head, and your heart will burst open
and all hell will break loose.
No need to plant the sugar snap peas this year, they will
burst from the ground when your fifth dimensional consciousness
brushes ligthly over the clay soil.
No need to touch your lover with the gentlest of touches, and rouse her with a shared sense of ecstasy,
we are barely in our bodies anymore anyway.
Who needs this recycled bags of bones, and this soul that's been here
ten thousand times before?
Down the street at the motorcycle shop, the enlightened ones
are chatting about the new bike that roars down the road so fast
your head is spinning and the ego is left
behind in a puddle of tears.
It's all good, the teenagers say, it's all good they text to each other
and laugh at the charade that the adults take so seriously.
We might have built that golden tower one day,
we might have healed the earth.
We were too busy watching Oprah today,
listening to Suze Orman tell us how to handle our precious money,
and Wayne Dyer like a tent religion revivalist lets us know
that we are made of stardust, and the physicists tell us we don't know who we are until we look at ourselves.
As if we can ever know.
Stopping the endless ancient violence of the
Real and the Ideal.

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