Emotionalistic, anti-socialistic
followers of the Bind.
Bottle-blurry,
loving worry,
trapped in the web that is Mind.
Incarceration, fascination
with finely balanced shocks.
Hard to see
in light of Me,
the Heart of Paradox.
Broken wheels have made us feel
bereft and all alone.
Several years
and countless tears
measure how we’ve grown.
All is paced and each is graced,
perfection is the rule.
What we see
is what we need
and everything is cool.
From self-attacks we must relax
and seek out what we love.
Simple birth
for what it’s worth,
here’s our heart-felt Dove.
Accept what is and that’s show-biz.
Relativity, that’s the deal.
I salute you my friend,
in this world without end,
where all the Illusions are Real.