Synthetic

The dazzling 'Starwars' effects pale, dry up, and blow away,
compared to energies already at work within us.
Suckled and suckered by digital tricks, some folks are always at play,
forsaking the lower gears, on their mystical mental bus.

At 4pm on weekdays. circa 1957, one Pop-eye cartoon
was shown. Every kid found a TV, and soon was lost in awe.
The 3D world, clashed so clearly with Bluto and the Goon,
there was no chance to forget Life's landmarks and its laws.

Identity derived from lean (if any) efforts made to learn
realities beyond the passionate, but trifling, self-love farce
we foist upon the world around, is doomed to crash and burn.
There's more to know about ourselves, than we're prepared to parse.

The densities and heights of Cosmic Order contain, surround
and penetrate, our transient span of flesh and bone.
We came into, and one day will depart, these earthly grounds,
but don't believe we have a mandate to repair/atone

for karmic mishaps born from other times. In zones unknown,
the energy we are, set itself to reach some precious aim
which it achieved, or not. We think ourselves to be alone
within our brain, and solely, wholly anchored to our name.

within the mind, unseen to us are many points of view
that wrestle and contend to reach the wheelhouse where we steer.
As we're engaged, entranced with 'ME', it's like we're friggin'glue
for raucius hordes who shout, "I want!". All false prides, greeds and fears

all clamor and hammer to own our heed and focus. Most folks can not
sustain a thought for but a tick, before they've sped away
to service something else. Psychic force is gained when sought,
but unschooled as we are, our higher places balk to play.