Sleeping is a cave
An exploring behind eyes
Where brain waves transmit
Weird echos and crazy bits
Washed from our unconsciousnesses.
Why here? Why now – this?
Is confusion a wonder?
We walk such borders;
Love is a mystery, sold,
But True Love is Light and Free.
We do things for years,
Clockwork on marked calendars,
Do we know or see?
These lives across all nations,
Are we who we wish to be?
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The pens write black ink,
Black – the absence of lightness,
Are our words, darkness?
Who should we implore for more?
We know God, in Him, we are.
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When the shelves are bare
We ache with hunger to fill
Need never sated,
We will not whisper, grumble,
For the wolves wait just outside.
Folded in wrinkles
Like coiled fabrics, unsightly,
Interior hidden,
All of us, misunderstanding,
The divine mystery – mind.
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If we do not see
Is existence then failure?
Are we competent
To make a final judgment?
We who waste a world, and time.
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I should stop. I have so much today, but there may be editing to do. I wish you all liked some of my longer work, but that is okay too.
Find pleasure as you can. Do your best. Be well.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
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