Sun and moon

Flower and bloom

This is a cartoon

But also in tune

With reality

The stream flowing freely

Merrily, dreamily

The me flowing me-ly

Mealy

Milly

We are Grist for the Mill

That’s the gist, I’m just a shill

In the mist, I don’t shoot to ****

I aim my arrow with love

To heal, I wield this skill

And I point my pistol high into the sky

I will throw away my shot

Again and again

So that others know where to aim

I am but a photon blasting into and out of the sun

I am all and I am one

Just begun, yet fully spun

Not just having fun, I am become

I have several toxic habits - I know - because I read this article on the web.
It’s a miracle I’m not an axe murderer, based on what the experts said.

I use “should” biased judgements - when things go amiss.
I think about the future, when settling down to rest.
I obsess on defining the “best part” in each of my experiences.
I often think in poetic terms  - which has driven wise men delirious.
I have nova bursts of interest - which escalate into crushes.
I keep a mental list of incidents which, if left unmanaged, lead to grudges.

The flaws go on and on - God, I simply am a mess.
I need to face my many flaws so that they might be addressed.

Do you think anyone is ever perfect?
Is it like playing whack-a-mole?

So that no one ever ends up perfect - they simply end up old?

When we are alone,
and our masks crumble,
we are confronted by the mirror.
So close...
you could reach out and touch
your self.
Your sickly reflection
stares back into you, and you are struck by
the confrontation between souls.
Break the mirror, and you will only be left with ****** knuckles.
Break yourself, however, and you will be born anew.

In the world of colors, I was a deep purple. A dark cloud in the midst of a golden palace - royal tinged with a sadness that blocked rays of light with a deep gray. My dark thoughts twisted around oak trees and into the roots of this one world. It is not be assumed that all was depressing but comfortable. There were rarely rainstorms for the self rarely allowed drops to fall from one's face. Just deep, heavy clouds.

What is this new world that I am in? A big, glass room that reflects the burning sun as it beings to rise. The self has dug its heels into the start of a sunrise. Highlighted with fury, my thoughts bounce off the glass and into my body, jolting with energy. I have yet to see the sun fully rise as I am stuck with the burning sky. One day, the heat ooze out onto the earth and crumble the glass, forcing the self to contend with what comes next. But right now, every inch of my skin is soaking up the blazing sun that it had missed so much. Maybe a full rise isn't welcome right now, but it will be one day.

Thinking I see clearly
Comes at a price
I pay it dearly
Spraying windex on glass barriers
Trapped by this transparency
I run wildly through a labyrinth
A prison of my own creation
Crimson, I move with desperation
The direct path overlooked

You are complex and unpredictable
Yet I try to predict you anyway
I put a vision of you inside my maze
I see your actions through an egoic haze
I analyze and interpret in a naive craze
And as I forecast the coming phase
I finally see this labyrinth I must raze

Wisdom is knowing how much you cannot know
Freedom is acting with that knowledge
Truth is the value that sets you free
The only path toward reality

Go shatter the glass
Veer off the path that you created
That you never knew you hated
The false entrapments in your way
So you can finally seize the day

I will not put you in a prison
I will correct this twisted prism
Come join me in this mission
Let’s create a new shared vision