Socratic Constellation Of Emptiness Poem by Vision Ghost

Can we seek eventual understanding of where such comprehension fades?
Before memories rust and the thoughts of passing events corrode in shades
To corners of the darkest reaches of our space unseen and yet unexplored
This frustration burns in me like St Elmo’s fire in eyes not so yet adored
I seek answers yet only ask in simplicity of the potential pupil of Plato
What catalysis of mental hormones or an enzymes rage for what I know

Or perhaps this new bridge between conscious thoughts and stars unite
In the parallel of conscious recognition for another’s self fought plight
That is too much to absorb from the endurance of human understanding
When presented with the paradox of denial yet we are forever believing
If the race of mankind could seek the furthering the singular of such minds
Could we unite in non foretold dimensions of thinking beyond daily grinds?

Yet I believe we are all too secure in routine of self daily companionship
With such routine of work and the false gods we worship for the next trip
Be it drug induced to fathom illusion or the greater expansion of ourselves
Imagine if we could touch with self thought the star of nebulas shelves
To which the star is born forgetting they are suns for another yield of this
Unbeknownst universe to which we explore only to our own indulgent bliss

We do milk ourselves for the limited of understanding unfathomed beyond
Any such sense of the box to which we’re contained like a spawn to the pond
Only ever knowing the existence through only the expanse of any science
That somehow draws crowds to the event yet never the knowledge in silence
Of such cooperation that blindness is accepted by all as its easier not to know
That you so gain the knowledge we are stronger in wisdoms philosophic glow

A deliberation of science to astound shock and amaze if not used for bombs
To exercise the superior of fire power through the animosity of our qualms
We never escape when we use violence in antagonism for yearning of freedom
Through the gore of virtual reality and the movies and the computer games tome
Are we completed yet only in fantasy and the self belief of an untested self belief
That we’re grand in our empires built upon false kingdoms of disillusioned relief

More and more and more into the absorption of centralising kinship of thought
As only if so common to the less than unique binding to which we are all caught
Exceeding the self doubt of intelligence tested only in such common social trials
Of a routine of transport absorbed into ambience so unthinking in undulating files
In gross denials that we are to grow old and have never self taught the sentence
We stand for so much yet in confusion of self aim in reluctance of acceptance