With respect we can notice
research locating consciousness
here close by within our brain..
Diligence has located networks of
solid character in our headspace..
These precisions persuade some that
research paths are leading to the
illusive doorway of truth..
In the meantime such persuasions
rise to obscure the doorway
used by some to gain glimpses
of consciousness not limited..
Yet might this network news
reporting of unified smallness
on a day quite soon
point to the light
leaking through that
doorway...

the heavy heart is a heathen
corrupter of better nature
committer of soul-treason

fueled by the miserable notion
that death is twilight
and life is dawn

to flight, to flail
to rage, to rail
to weep, to wail
to no avail

to unhope

and all of this minus the mercy

©Jason Cole

~~
*When I saw grandma was spinning yarn at moon
Mother's lullaby was just a fairytale
The measure would not have to weigh the legs
Flew colorful kites in the sky
Had a chat with friends at idle hours
The dreams came but never went with wind
We, all friends were wandering in a fairyland
The words of the poem as the rain came
She loved to hear the poems
When romance flowed with blood
Air, flowers said Spring
When in a lazy Summer afternoon  
She stood at my door
Sitting beside me
Sang a song of future
Lost ourselves
When time moved in the forth dimension  
You and me
Sometimes Sunshine,
Sometimes Rain
Horizon spoke with Rainbows
Then dreams played with my blue Sky
And I was bright as the Evening Star
 ~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen