I’m still shocked by the latest landslide in
my mind, realizing what my choices mean;
a retiring life of quiet study without any real
experience because I have been nauseated
by the crude details of earthly existence for
most of my life
I haven’t yet defined my role; often cry about
being a square peg in a round hole, not fitting
in, not being content, yet held in my place by
intellectual baggage, I can dream of human
relationships, but only in the third person,
for me personally
There is only capacity; I’m studying to learn
about dreams because I can’t dream as my-
self, I have to become somebody else so as
to manifest and inhabit being, I shall accept
making sacrifices continuously for duty and
principles; but
I cry about wasted abilities; perturbed by
the waste of potential; only saved by the
thought that earthly life is simply a phase
in the unfolding of infinite consciousness,
that all potential is fulfilled within other
lines - whenever
The trousers of time is split in two
as choices are made and
carried out…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Louise, Thanks for sharing this thought provoking work. It made me think that no matter what is taken from us or what we take from ourselves, 'infinite consciousness' provides hope indestructable.