(no subject)
Someone sent this to me.
I thought it was pretty.
Now and again when I slow my pace.....
the comfortable chaos questions why I change....
"Hungry" I tell them.....
my mind fell asleep to pain....
now nudges me awake when the outside world becomes too lost to blame....
now a compass is worthless when both opposites are perfect, and perfect is the ocean and its surface......
I know I know nothing, so uncertainty is all thats certain....
But certainly if theres something to be uncertain about its worth searching....
I've searched some came across dead ends and closed curtains....
found that closed gates are built by closed minds....
hibernating hearts in cold times....
claustaphobic cubicles control minds, until success equals escape through condo cosigns and coke lines....
medetation, death, friends on faint phonelines....
trying to buy the children lexus wings to see if hope flys....
I hope I connect to the dark, greedy, and ignorant...
Because my shadows roam on common streets children in suits searching for innocense.....
I wonder if Buddha ever dreamt of Jesus dreaming of Buddha......
dreaming of nocternal wonderers late night on their computers....
I wonder whos dreaming this dream we've found comfort in, and if any goal in a dream is even worth conjering....
last night I heard a whisper that sang outside the dream, so now I call that whisper home regardless of what it means........
regardless of what it means.....
I call that whisper home....
If I wander does it mean that I'm lost?
and if, I question does it mean I'm confused?
and if I'm silent does it mean that I've got nothing to say.... or simply nothing to prove?
Ohhh…. We sat around and smoked philosophy….
Modestly questioning every book, bone, and artery….
Changing the solid obvious to possibly's….
Cause possibly it’s possible that possibilities are all that’s probable….
We all drift - creators on a blank canvas….
Pretending we didn’t cause it so we could play in the madness….
But that’s all it is - we’re wanderers amongst patterns….
Questioning everything but never expecting answers….
And oh, we don’t know what life is….
God, karma, Allah, Dharma, and furious faith to fight with….
Big bang maybes, maybe its not, maybe it is….
I don’t care who’s on top, I still don’t know if I exist….
I thought it was pretty.
Now and again when I slow my pace.....
the comfortable chaos questions why I change....
"Hungry" I tell them.....
my mind fell asleep to pain....
now nudges me awake when the outside world becomes too lost to blame....
now a compass is worthless when both opposites are perfect, and perfect is the ocean and its surface......
I know I know nothing, so uncertainty is all thats certain....
But certainly if theres something to be uncertain about its worth searching....
I've searched some came across dead ends and closed curtains....
found that closed gates are built by closed minds....
hibernating hearts in cold times....
claustaphobic cubicles control minds, until success equals escape through condo cosigns and coke lines....
medetation, death, friends on faint phonelines....
trying to buy the children lexus wings to see if hope flys....
I hope I connect to the dark, greedy, and ignorant...
Because my shadows roam on common streets children in suits searching for innocense.....
I wonder if Buddha ever dreamt of Jesus dreaming of Buddha......
dreaming of nocternal wonderers late night on their computers....
I wonder whos dreaming this dream we've found comfort in, and if any goal in a dream is even worth conjering....
last night I heard a whisper that sang outside the dream, so now I call that whisper home regardless of what it means........
regardless of what it means.....
I call that whisper home....
If I wander does it mean that I'm lost?
and if, I question does it mean I'm confused?
and if I'm silent does it mean that I've got nothing to say.... or simply nothing to prove?
Ohhh…. We sat around and smoked philosophy….
Modestly questioning every book, bone, and artery….
Changing the solid obvious to possibly's….
Cause possibly it’s possible that possibilities are all that’s probable….
We all drift - creators on a blank canvas….
Pretending we didn’t cause it so we could play in the madness….
But that’s all it is - we’re wanderers amongst patterns….
Questioning everything but never expecting answers….
And oh, we don’t know what life is….
God, karma, Allah, Dharma, and furious faith to fight with….
Big bang maybes, maybe its not, maybe it is….
I don’t care who’s on top, I still don’t know if I exist….