Written By Ben Vest
Like a black hole, My ideas which sparked light, Sucking to pull, My madness delight, Written upon a scroll, The darkness sealed up tight, With remnants of charred coal, From that fire in the night, My eyelids fold, Blacking out my sight, But colors swirl with traces of gold, Memories weren’t right, But the stories told, Around the campsite, The night was cold, Adding to the plight, No one there to hold, Imagining fright, My mental river rowed, Upstream was white, The rapids were bold, And filling up the dike. Always fighting with the current, Just trying to keep my head above water, When survival seems uncertain, And internal wounds need to cauterize, An absurd occurrence, Tales from the wise, Where being well and ill begin convergence, That space where healing lies, When I’m under observance, Realization ignites, With upmost assurance.. I was looking down on myself with my third eye. Watching this disturbance, Being unable to pry, Waiting for the emergence, Of that sinking guy, This inner performance, Falling to fly, Exercising avoidance, Exerting to try, Shaking my head with annoyance, Letting out a sigh, Focused on the clearance, The holes in the sky, Portals to reminisce, As past lives die.
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