Unwrapping

Raw and gory little being

The cosmos takes its first breath

Debarked from a realm of bliss

The earth steals a petite kiss

You are now wrapped in papers of morality

An additional paper of colorful guilt

Innumerable others of vivid philosophy

And yet another of dire hatred

Food you eat

Or the wrappers around

Elucidate the weight of your body?

Nonetheless, you are primed; you are on

A quest to revivify the dim

A journey to unwrapping a gift

A gift; from another alien realm

Tear apart the papers

To that default ecstasy within;

A souvenir of the higher

Do not resign; Mind you!

There are layers to strip

Before you slumber.

World

World, a mirage

Inflamed with bitter nonsense

Can I see that I am in knots?

Trapped first under skin

Then entangled

In the ribbons of thoughts

Perspectives. Of all and sundry.

Questionable reality.

Is sound not a dimension?

Seventh, maybe?

I am drugged.

A heaven though. Certainly.

Now repositioning me

Have you ever by chance

Tripped upon this realm?

That I am presently at?

Only moving silhouettes

Oblivious. Silent. Funny.

Do they know I am away?

In case they see me?

I am liking the seventh.

Are there more of such?

For I’d love losing my way

Seeking You.

I don’t see another dimension. Not yet.

I am hallucinating. Indisputably.

For what I see,

Is painted behind my eyes

Not around me.

Discerning reality

 

There is something about worn-out places that fascinate me. The exhausted paint coatings releasing itself from the grasp of the wall, exposing the underlying bricks from which they were once built, long ago. They are no longer able to contain each other. I wonder who wins here. The paint, avowed to protect the wall, now unearthing freedom? The wall, who can now be its true self? Or both, for breaking free from the vile dominance of attachment?