What is real? Everything. Nothing.
(The beard though, transcends all...
until I shave it and
About the prize always in hand,
So am I truly cut open? And if so,
I am everything.
that are truly only pin pricks in
a bed sheet hung out to dry in the moonlight
on a far-far away world that does not exist
until I shave it and
donate it to make hair plugs
for balding wolverines.)Okay...enough about the beard.
Time to talk about healing...About the prize always in hand,
only seeming to be just out of reach.
Strength comes in so many forms,all driven by the mind, the will.
Strength, the will, and the mind are illusions. So am I truly cut open? And if so,
aren't I also always healed?
I am everything.
I am nothing.
I am the breath of starsthat are truly only pin pricks in
a bed sheet hung out to dry in the moonlight
on a far-far away world that does not exist
except in the pages of a child's book
left forgotten under the roots of the oldest tree--ever...
And ever will be.
(This is what my Milkman used as an argument when I asked him why he was replacing my empty milk bottles with...more empty milk bottles. I said, well done with the Zen logic, and then paid him with an illusionary one-hundred dollar bill and asked for $90.00 back in real money.)
(This is what my Milkman used as an argument when I asked him why he was replacing my empty milk bottles with...more empty milk bottles. I said, well done with the Zen logic, and then paid him with an illusionary one-hundred dollar bill and asked for $90.00 back in real money.)
