Self

Myriad colours of beings, all marching on,
Scuttling like warring lizards
Things to do, people to meet, places to visit,
Acts to play, armies to please
War is peace.

Merry-making, shouting, building castles, making promises
Power breakfasts, power lunches, power dinners
While their skeletons fed on their inner secrets – the real ‘them’
To be naked is clothed.

Dead of night, they all sleep
Lying on cushy pillows, fed to grow with their secrets
While truth loiters, waiting to be woken up
Sleep is wakefulness.

Comes along their soul...mates, forever
There is war
There is nudity
There is awakening
The release of the skeleton
Splinters of the flames of truth scatter all over.

From the ashes of hypocrisy
Rises the phoenix of love
Rebirth. Rejuvenation. Eternal life.
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