illusions demise

10 01 2013

Of all the things a man holds dear,
what is truth cannot appear,
until the things he thought were his,
are given freely unto bliss.
I stand before you, lust is sated…
letting go of things I’ve fated,
to this earthly flesh entwined,
by mortal wants and rotting vines.

In this light, where I lay glowing,
on the brink of somehow knowing,
illusion is the thing I am,
unneeded sundries, ethers’ spam.
I ask you now to take me in,
and let my spirits truth begin,
to heal what was such a gift,
and still exists beyond the rift.




One response

10 01 2013


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