The glimpse-
Grasping, it slips.
Abstaining, it tempts.
Alone, it is.

My childlike eye:
Raw, clear, liquid cry.
Shining sight so bright.
Serenity of sky.

Blurry but keen,
On seeing things yet unseen.
Light travels to my eye-
The glimpse of a queen.

Awaken to a mirror reflecting clouded visions of dreams you've dreamt through the ages.
Medieval castles and princesses, Mayan Ruins - infinite changes.
These are the forgotten memories. Locked withing Maya's cages.
Acted out with different masks but thought of by the same sages.
Reading different but all bound pages.
A story that goes round and round.

Sky to ground.

The water cycles and gives life and energy to all.
But from where did the water initially fall?
Sip from a golden goblet the King of Kings ponders all!
Pondering how he sweats so much water while building the wall.
Maya's illusion covering the truth of all.


The ghost in the machine sits hidden behind the perceptual division screen.
So only the extensions of the poetic master actor is seen.
All the world seems to me is smokey trails and pipe dreams.

Everyday alone, I wander woods unknown.
Herb gathering, perched on hidden cloud throne.
Constructed by ageless story filled stone.
No human to see once all is shown,
Revealing boundaries unknown,
making everywhere my home.