No lines
No lines are writ that says to look
and know the truth within
because to see and then to know
a most peculiar thing.
And this thing is like an alien
for it flashes from the eyes
the fire and passion, love,
of a million other lives
and plays, re-plays, quintessence
in the silence of all time.
And all time is like a labyrinth
that keeps us in a circle
no matter left or right
until consciousness draws a line
and we step off to the side.
And the side is just a no man’s land
of choices good and bad
where experience no master
of who we are inside.
And the inside is a gift
not unwrapped until we die
but I died, you see, and came to life
the day love held my hand.
And a hand is not a hand
but a channel for the mind
to impart and then imprint
what I cannot now deny!
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