Real as Yor Are

The pilot in a conscious mind, finds Nirvana, bit by bit.
Just as art and music have a poor and soaring best,
or craftsmanship is splendidly exquisite or misfit,
so too, awareness can rust shut, or up-soar unopressed.

To not charge off, seduced by any passing whiff or whim,
rewards one with fresh energies it takes, to learn to steer
away from inner cliffs. The chances to evolve are slim
if one allows oneself to shirk the honest work to clear

the moods and attitudes thin-skinned he/she divas hold.
The inner universe between the ears holds all the cards.
The outer caveman brain transacts in violence and canards.
Transcention from Persona's cage is pure celestial gold.

Expansion and contraction are the engines and the scale
by which existence operates and moves. Until each man
evolves to see this construct, front end first, he'll stay in jail
and be inconsequentcial, as he wastes his lifetimes span.

A vertical escape from Hell, describes self extrication.
And then, guerilla war will last until the end of days.
So critical you can't believe, this thrust to find salvation,
is all that stands between that place where darkness always stays.