You can't rush
into your inner sanctum
demanding an answer
its sacredness you'd defile
and be left bereft, no better-

enter humbly you must
in purity of soul and heart
its door will gladly welcome
of you it'll be a willing part-

your dreams it will readily hug
the veil will then be lifted
never again would you
be left abandoned
in the lonely dark.

Short sentences do me well

I don't labour over what to tell

The man said nothing is real

While making a sweeping gesture with his right hand
It's a simulation he says, all of it, nothing is real

I remember as a kid singing row row your boat
Reminding me to be happy because life is a dream

Again the man states while gesturing, nothing is real
Strawberry Fields, nothing is real, nothing to get hung-up about

The Hindu call it Maya, all an illusion, nothing is real

Science gods working toward virtual reality
Where we can't tell simulation from life, nothing is real

Between sleeping and not sleeping there's so much meaning,
Lost and sleepily found again,
Causing joy and provoking pain.

She had that
octopus smile,
always reaching for
something.
I was her small
fish; her handmaid.
I lived in her nebulous
world for far too long.
Inky confusion...

There's a reason for
your treason, said the
old man to the shark,
but Hem forgot, a beast
is a beast, they do
beastly things.
We all have to eat.

I'm done being the
meal.
It's your Ocean,
I'm just trying to
swim in it.

You're an oyster,
and I want your
pearl,
but I won't drown
for it.

The doctor knows his medicine

but the heart he can't heal

life is hardly about reason

infinitely more about how to feel.

Don't worry,
Don't you worry,
Yours is a good story.