The mind of God
is a construct
of human will.
We see without eyes
what our soul
was meant to see.
As we strive through
the layers of turmoil
and suffering,
life gives us meaning.
The meaning exists
in the friction of it all.
It doesn’t exist
in the triumph.
It’s own history,
just an empty place
on a totem pole
of expectations.
Why do we expect
or want?
when clearly it has given
us nothing but pain
in all its forms.
We are rising up
to the standards
Of the next shift.
The mind tunes into what it already knows.
It is just a word,
but meaning is
in the virtue of it all.
I can’t find meaning
in empty words.
They are useless
at portraying thoughts
in the minds own,
infinite depths,
beyond reason or math,
We all see it as a glimpse,
The uncovering of something.
It was lost.
Buried somewhere in a forsaken corner
Collecting dust and cobwebs.
We almost forgot.
But we can never forget.
We can only uncover
What has been lost
Because of our forgetfulness.,
and we are almost there. That moment..
I hate you because you are vain.
The Spiteful enemy
often shows up
as your closest friend.
Sunnyside up, please.
Don’t forget breakfast.
It’s the most important meal of the day.
Or is it the most forsaken?
What does all of this mean anyway?