I have woken up,

where am I? In an ocean --


of sleeping silence?

They think they can throw rocks at me,
to blind what’s in hindsight
But they dont understand Eternal Light
thrives in dark nights,
Rock bottom is my design,
I absorb it take power from it and form it
Peak through pain
Hurdle will be MY game,
so let’s play this game right.

Hidden motives they hide,
but I saw them with my minds eye
The say “love” as in false disguise
But real hatred they harbor inside

Which only ends in their own demise, because out of lust many of these men desire
to get in between my thighs,
to feel the divine inside
So I be polite and tell them to;
raise their consciousness above my waistline
and to go back to their wives. Respect her.

Now….

Rise!

In the grass, snakes lie
Fangs bared, ready to strike,
Slither over consciousness,
Turning strength weak,
As insidious thoughts do inside.
Cause man to pause,
As like a stone;
Movement defies

What galavants as another,
Stuck out
Always staring in?
What sparks,
What smothers?
To capture a view,
Only to envision?
Walks the tightrope of light;
Cleaving night, like rays of a beam?
Put together by others,
Yet lacks a seam?
Has power, that
Blossoms only as a flower?
Looks upon the empty,
To see something?

Who knows nothing?

For each moment we live
the universe gains a sense of meaning,
an explanation of the origins of life
on this jagged sphere pummeling through the devoid
at an alarmingly quick rate.

We are the reason the universe exists;
if we were not here to view the stars
that line these dark skies,
would there even be a sky in the first place?

Is the infinite possible
if we were not here to decide?

Is consciousness the premise of matter,
or is there an underlying meaning
to the point of this all
that supersedes our infant understanding?

Is there truly a concrete precedent
to establish the groundbreaking ideal
that we are alone in this vast expanse
as we eagerly await the impossible?

I gaze upon this world we know
and come to find that, instead,
we reign in a world unknown.

Dying means little

without fantasy, else it's --


about everything.