[Three short poems, for short attention spans I gift them. Please go diagnose yourself with ADD now. You will be doing the Great Machine a favour to be fixed. Thank you.]
This is the way we are
Watching rain fall from the inside
Never getting wet
The cut that heals is a wound never dealt.
The dream that dies was never dreamt.
The star that falls knows only how to burn.
It is only for things unseen that we yearn.
We are all haunted by our ghosts,
Self-created constructs only real
By the light of dualities. We orbit
Through them, pretending we’re alive;
Giving them meaning as our cries break
On the vast shore of wakefulness.
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