An open thought to the great energy wherever it may be, to the highest celestial presence what are we but fleas in its perception of us. Upon the surface of the known earth, nothing but ourselves can feel such a range of what are known as emotions. The most of which seem sad and the very least lonely I sense not the vibration of the common kind I am somewhere else still tuning in to normal, but it doesn’t exist. The skin is getting thinner the shield is wearing down the numbers in this puzzle cannot be found, will the door be always locked I have to say I know not the holy centres are full the only interest is ill-gotten gain, the greatest and worst is a lie with ourselves.
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The Poetic Warrior Returns to his Poetry after Illness Welcome One, Welcome All