As above, so it is below
Do you feel the vibrations?
Now, what is it that you know?
Is this your truth, obscured by sacred words
Spoken from the mouths of unwashed Beasts
Dressed up, disguised
As Monks, Poets, and Priests?

It's all very simple
Orderly and neat
The Universe is a closed system
You must look within
If it is Truth that you seek
You have always been
Therefore, you will always be

If you enjoy something creative,
set out to do it.
Don't just live vicariously,
gain some skills.

If you fear failure,
you fear opportunity.
If you embrace imperfection,
nothing can stop you.

Do what you love.
Love what you do.
Anything shy of that
isn't worth your while.

I dreamt a wonderful dream last night,
of falcons flying above me.
Their wings were huge,
and trapped in them
were feathers that gave wishes for free.
The falcons said:
"Do not pretend, let not the wishes go in vain."
I took the feather,
and closed my eyes.
I wished to climb a mountain.
On top I'd go,
and down I'd see,
what's lost of the world,
and of me.
On top,
I'd see the birds fly by
and kiss the stars at night.
Or perhaps wake up
to touch the clouds,
and again look down with a sigh,
at the boundaries that surround the world,
and oh the hatred that I'd see!

I opened my eyes and blew the feather,
with a gush of wind it flew.
up in the sky it went,
as if to touch a mountain the falcons knew.

I woke up this morning,
with a sigh again.
The dream I had was lost.
If only falcons flew above me,
and feathers granted wishes for free,
I'd surely climb a mountain top to find out,
what's lost of the world,
and of me.

There are stories in your eyes.

I never told you how
sometimes I fell asleep
with the thought that you
were perhaps the moon-

always disappearing
with the dawn.

Give him a pencil
or any straw;
he will engrave
an image
on flying sands!

We are all going to die.
We are all going to be forgotten.
It doesn't matter if your grave is six feet deep and three feet wide,
Or if your body was slung over the side,
of a boat in motion
from hands devoid of emotion
We all end up just the same.
Decayed and rotten.
Forgotten.
If that isn't Equality,
I don't know what is.