So at peace with delusion… So blind to the truth,
No one enters my safe world, chaotic in gloom.
It reflects what is outside, where there, it’s too much
For the inside to deal with. My soul is a crutch
As I limp through reality to certain doom.
Since to both worlds I cater, I’m rendered uncouth.
I am vulnerable to the moment I trust.
The more I try to focus, I sharpen the blur.
Should the image be useful, it may do me harm.
Nothing in me nor outside would sound an alarm.
And I don’t know which dimension I would prefer.
When I’m forced to decide, I do so in disgust.
Ego may play the victim as it sees demise
Of itself, so it plays every trick in the book
To create more and maintain its reason to be.
For the growth of the spirit, potential I see.
What divine feats of magic come with this outlook?
Precious fruits of the spirit I may realize.