If the entire planet rises to a spiritual awakening, wars will fade and activism will no longer need to take  place for the protection of environmental and economic crisis. Humans will see spirits instead of bodies, and our existence will seem as if an ego never took part of our conscious.

What differs between ego and spirit? Ego seizes to get rid of spirit, while spirit teaches ego to surrender towards conscious understanding of Unity and Wholeness .

Singularly, literally illusion
perspective is the falsness of  i am one.
perspective of me, as if every one else is none.
Like one is me and i matter most
when this individual body is only a host
For the collective thought that I seem to convey
when i reach in to my heart to find the  way
I continue to try and travel
find my way deep in side my mind
I wager internal battles
But there are so many blocks to find
so many different blocks send out sound
vibration. they build fences in my  feilds
put caps on my cups.
They Block my heart out
and they stop my flow up

I thought I saw a halo hovering above my head,
It rested on cement.
Then a bedroom window flew open
And the light got bent.

fists clenched
fingers torqued,
palms reddened

raise up the length
twist tight -the center,
muscle, guns...

feel the power
cheek to cheek
gobsmacked...

I live to see my arms.

Admire me.

All credits for this poem go to my friend, Shuchita Mehta; who I hope now has confidence in her writing. :)

Every single day of my life,
Has been spent in silence.
This has become a routine for me.
A routine which I never wanted;
A routine where
Without speaking a word,
My loved ones are hurt;
A routine which makes me feel miserable.
Silence: *I hate you!
We both don't get along that well,
I hate you because you make yourself available,
Everytime.
I hate you because you comfort *ego;
I hate you because without you,
So many problems could be sorted;
I hate you because you depress me;
I hate you-
For you have compelled me to write about you,
**And not speak.

You may think you have no shadow.
But I see it dancing behind you.
I can't see it's face,
but I'm sure that it's smiling.
But it's no smile of fructose.
Just of bile and scorn overdose.

With topography riding limbs.
In seamless synchronisation
with yourself.
I hear it whisper and hiss,
with sounds of ****** bliss;
At each unseen bruise inflicted.