Imagine grass,
tall bright green grass.
Each individual blade,
Swaying freely in everlasting fields.
Harmonious, peaceful, simple.
Now imagine,
a lawnmower,
loud,
demanding,
ruthless.
cutting down,
grooming,
and controlling the grass.
No more does it sway freely.
Religion is my lawnmower.

With each our own, upon a thrown, of thorns our souls reside. With each new tear our hearts they bear the past with open eyes. With lessons tried, and tears we've cried from wisdom, we've succumb. Our time will say to run or stay, each choice its own demise.

I have an undieing urge in life to roam.
An overwhelming desire to experience, and explore, but I feel so confined by city walls.
As tho I'm bound by stirrups of hollow currency and debt I didn't ask for.
Psychologically enslaved, driven like a power horse towards false dreams of open pastures,
herded by the motives of others prosperity.
Where is that life that was intended for me, it seems the very sense of freedom is bought and pacification is all they really sell.
Like a dream chaser, I say to myself, one day.

A waking moment, when eyes first open.
Like a newborn experiencing sight for the first time.
Blinding curiosity illuminating a fight for understanding.
Pure at first, as each new sensation overwhelms the senses.
As each new day comes and goes,
turning into weeks,
months,
and years;
shaping our perspectives.
We slowly lose that sight we once had,
a forceful forging becomes of us.
Is who we are simply what we've seen?
It seems as each clip of life is impressed upon us,
we become less individual in the since of freewill,
and moreso as a carbon copy of impulses and reactions.
Lessons of life are gained after rigorous testing of wills, fates and virtues.
Mistakes as high as moutian peeks can be reached in moments,
Whilst the treck down seem to never end.
Lost deep in a forest that repeats itself,
over and over leading back to that peak.
Within these trials of heartache, triumphs, and shame.
When does redemption come to save our souls?
An awaking moment, when eyes first open.
Like a newborn experiencing sight for the first time.
Blinding curiosity illuminating a fight for understanding.
An understanding beyond the senses,
beyond what can be seen and felt thru this battle life creates.
A struggle for redemption for what has been seen and done,
in the moments before these eyes had true vision.
A redemption that is dreamt with open eyes under sunny skies,
and soundly under starlight; but it seems sometimes as tho,
no matter the destination desired for that clean slate in life,  
I find myself fixed, like a switch on the wall.
As tho we can be empowered, only to be turned off.
Is the desire for redemption caused by switching on,
and rewarded by flipping back off with oblivious eyes?

It seems as we get older, a piece of us gets lost.
Desires fill our hearts, it seems those pieces are the cost.
What must we do to find them, or fill that broken void.
Do we ever get them back, or are they just destroyed.
As age creeps up, and time ticks by, and awkwardness begins,
It's hope I find a heart like mine, who's pieces just fit in.

We'll all live on forever..
Like the energy within us,
never ending...............continuous.
Weaving and winding forever on end,
coming and going, colliding, again.
Thru all probabilities of chance,
like a copacetic electric dance,
connected eternal we're never alone,
it's just for a moment this instants our home.
It is, what was, has been, will be,
each step we take is destiny.
This is just my point of view,
but you are me and I am you,
Our essence one but many too.
Simply like a shooting star,
a piece of it within my heart,
another piece is within you.
Perhaps that star was us that flew.
The meaning of this life to me,
is very simply just to be.
Complacent, yet eager to learn,
to feel, to live,  to love, and yearn.
To look inside ourselves and see,
That God is you and God is me.
Tho, we go, we GROW, a p a r t.
A path that goes without a start.
With each new breaths a new begin,
within this loop we're spinning in.

It's two am, and here again, I'm lying wide awake.
Procrastinations all to blame, for granted life's at stake.
Like binding chains, that freely hang, nor keeping me tied down.
It's motivation that's not here, it never has been found.
Anxiously I pace around, I chase illusive sleep.
Initiative is all to give, but restlessness I keep.
Repeatedly I ask myself, when will it all change, will I finally shed these chains, to keep me from the same?
I close my eyes and fall to sleep at two am agian, with promises upon myself to find that new begin.
Another midnight revelation shedding light my way, giving me precise direction, lost each waking day.