Oust the Myna's Egg
One day, every Self will ask, " Am I content to die asleep
in treadmill mode, chained to a grim and go-nowhere grind? "
We'll know that our demise will not include an outbound leap,
and if we ever reappear, its with a lesser mind.
A lasting sense of path is preferable, to fits of rant and rage
that come of living lost in meaningless goolaush. That place
where piper debts and petty pap are off the guage,
there your throne awaits, unless you turn your face toward Grace.
The inner Light's your own, but you will always be a pawn.
Unpromotable because the creature that you are,
though meant to struggle free from sleep with psychic sword withdrawn,
is stubborn as a gasless car, to learn to slay the Personna's czar.
As ends run true to origins, things happen in the only way
they can. (no radish seed became a squash) Swinberne stated, "No man
lives forever, and dead men rise up never". All things decay
and not the other way around, as per the cosmic plan.
We are the spawn of starlight, and are here on Earth by means
unknown. When we self-reflect we see, we're partnered to
a beastly meat machine, whose spur and thrust comes through its genes,
With instincts to survive, and appetites. An ape herd, who
start their Lives with hollow heads, and hopes of getting through
this stacked deck world, are able to evolve beyond their base
estate. It takes, at times, full sober focus to undo
the layers of destructive backward thinking, to the last trace.
Animal and angel occupy a single head, but they both think
that they're the only one. Rampant appetites for sex and gold,
teamed up with pride and vanity, and lust for drug and drink,
describes the beast. The urge to know what's good to have and hold,
inspires the spark of conscious Light, which all men are imbued.
One's conscience knows, with open eyes, which way the right path goes,
but Ego masks the kraken's tentacles. We sleep, we're screwed,
and sleep we do, not just at night. We walk about a-doze
and jabber with the zombies in the parks and restaurants.
We're numb to know a deeper fuller bliss, because our brain is full
of secret things to which we cling. Lustful greeds and fears foster wants
that dominate our time and energies. False pride's a bull
that charges anyone who dares besmirch it's more than perfect name.
Vanity is no cheap date. A evil queen, brought up on lies,
will go red-zone to hear, she's not the fair, most gorgeous dame
in all the land. These two give Self-Love it's jealous eyes.
That which it is We are, we plug-in someone else, then curse
his day of birth. So, If we instigate what grief we cause,
and can't admit, even to ourselves, our guilt is worse
than his, what charity or hope are we due? Karmic claws
are on the hunt for turds who do like this. We have no clue
we don't deserve a worthy thing, but owe instead. Not here to play,
we came to self correct. Are you so dumb to think that you
are one who doesn't have to work. and doesn't have to pay?