Not The Final Authority [rev.] Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Neither headache nor direct pain, just a heavy
weight in my mind; malaise of food intolerance,
an inability to find joy in anything – so good for
spiritual learning Lobsang Rampa would say –
though by his colour criteria I’m classed as an
immature and unreliable scatterbrain wasting
precious life force by studying religions instead
of campaigning for just the right religious strain

Liking the wrong kind of ding-dong music and all
the wrong colours, light-blue, shades of pink and
soft yellow indicates childish shortcomings in his
scheme - juxtaposed against the minute world of
ice-cold Judaism with perfect spiritualism based
on irrefutable, irrevocable rules - no exceptions -
& no space for unique situations, so suffocating,
now feeling judged and found wanting by these

Spiritual groups, I yet refuse to remain contained
within the slow-moving ox-wagon discoveries of
painstaking sensory science, I decide the infinite
universe has space for the odd-one-out me, the
black sheep, resembling the Arabic alphabet with
relative letters changing form depending on their
position - I shall remain a student breaking every
rule found to test its meaning and thus showing

A VERY bad disposition declares Lobsang Rampa
but he’s not the final authority, nobody is; it seems
consciousness is so big there are infinite spirals of
eternal knowledge that won’t ever be contained in
only one system of peace