Kirby, Take The Point

When living through one's personality, habits are hard-wired
to serve the boss, no matter how you thought, what you might want.
We're fleeced, even as we dream that we're awake. Desired
events are rare to come by. Their scarceness serves to haunt and taunt

our endless yen for more. If we were what we claim to be
abundant joy would dog our days. Sleep to greater things,
goes on right now, in all who think they know that 'I' and 'Me'
are all there is to highest sense of self. They own no inner wings

to elevate, much less to soar above the ruckus wrought
by these near blind and deaf, 'can't-be-told-nothing' fools and chumps.
Consciousness assigns to 'I' and 'Me', a lower spot
down the scale of shrewd and savvy ways to duck the bumps and lumps

of life comin' atcha. One's genitals and bankbook lead
the list of appetites that run amuck, though lesser vice
abounds to taint the mystic essence spawned within the seed
from whence we came. Depravity slides one toward the preciprice

of no return, (at least mammalian). Aspects of the positive
are rare in life, and often accidental. Expression of Good
and Truthful things has no sweet home, where crocodiles live.
Some think this life is but a step on the road to God-hood.

Among these folks I am. If I'm wrong here, so what? If right,
I'm loaded for dinosaur, and this would mean a proper love
of Goodness, Truth and Beauty, and their Soul of glorious Light.
The next step up begins with these, to ways too wild to think of.