The me self and the I self and we,
were imagining ourselves possessed
or, at least, stitched to our weform shadow
of an essentially spiritual sameness, as us
in weform, not just me,
and just me, only thinker thinking,
but we, the people judging each other,
after all, each day's worth, wasted or used,
trying to realize actual ever after, at peace
liking your baited hook with 'bated breath
held for your liking, look, we can turn blue,
waiting for the point where reality pops.
Leaving us scatter brained, and much the same,
as though we never used the time
to seem weformed, just right.
What good could one right idea do alone?
High five, zenwise, two one hands clapping…
in spirit we, our final form, once imaginable
strolling streets of gold, with nothing else to do…
judgement's all done, hell was not an option,
so one of us starts writing on the window
between here and there… and catches your attention,
this is that,
click bait, fishing for mental bytes, organized from bits.
Ever learning one can never know everything at once.
Just if, and what if, just said so soft,
another weform might think it all imagined.
While we think it more likely spiritual.
Some times tears come after realizing you have not heard from a sick friend since last time you said good bye, and a ghostly reminder brings a smile with tears... so we think we still have all we ever held true between us...