The Rookery and the Road

This earth is like a rookery for Souls. Most break their shells,
and start the daunting awkward fledgling phase of gaining wings.
Many barriers within the gauntlet of many Hells,
await the baby Beings. Those that stay true, despite the stings

and siren calls, perfidious and unholy, will taste the force
that courses down from upworld pools of energies unknown
to men corrupted and undone along the way. The source
from which organic Life receives its spark, is from a zone

the living can't behold, but none-the-less is real. Inside
the mind, true evidence exists, a billion trillowatts,
and more, is mystically mated to our lazy little pride
of sleepy housecats. Most are like machine-matons and bots,

whose daily lives are locked in trance. They think their open eyes
and ears, comprise their consciousness. Not seeing that control
is governed by frozen inner structures, held in place by lies
and attitudes, they act like king-shit headman of their Soul.

Humility and a quiet mind, recieve the whispers from
far caverns, where the echoes of omniscience expell.
The racket Ego makes from tooting horns and beating drums,
drowns out all hope to know a paradise beyond this Hell.

Those souls unfit to benefit from this world's shaping scheme,
seem sure to be reborn where sharper teeth can motivate
their willingness to quit the toxic, overproud esteem
that self-love deficates. Sloth and greed conspire to suffocate

those tendrils seeking Goodness, Truth, Love and Beauty.
The fictive picture that Persona propagates, is meant
to keep one's essence comatose. One's sense of being 'me',
seems convincing, but contains many things that we don't see.

As our denial and justify dragons quickly stifle
any question challenging our excellence, real facts
are scarce. That most of us would sooner face a rifle
than hear bad words about what's wrong with us, we lack

a true protection, so we lie. (to ourselves, to be sure!).
As duped and sleeping prisoners of the whoppers that we bought,
back when eating bugs and boogers was the mindset that we were,
frights plus bad math, made this web of dread in which we're caught.