Treasure Island

Robert Lansing

(September 1992-)

Behold


Take it through the shade of your shadow-
Let blindness be your guide;
Walk from today to tomorrow
Relying on nothing on your side...

Fear is but a product of sensing,
A living abortion that looks so much older,
A monster out of one's own labor feeding
On freedom, enslaving space and caging in shelter.

Keep watching it build up, growing,
Or grope for the sustaining plug-
Favor euthanasia over suicide, weeding
Out what the self itself has dug.

It's an ever-skewed mirror after all-
Deceit is fullest when the eyes are open;
Doubt with them closed as death sees all
In its lucid dream, everything unhidden, swollen.

Submitted: Saturday, January 30, 2010
Edited: Monday, March 22, 2010
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