
Illusion of appearances
Like a wounded jackal in search for food
I am still watching my wounds in awe
My fascination has turned into an obsession
One that will eventually turn me to dust
These wounds are devices of remembrance
A healing path on my way home
But I am bound with bandages of illusion
For I see not devices but foes
The dance of opposites keeps its dizzying charm
In left and right my head turns into a craze
Searching for lights of illusion in craving this or that
But I find no solace in either extremes
While bleeding myself out faint
Neutrality is a drum beat I never hear
Negativity is a companion of my perspective
And the past is a bed rock of my present
I cry out in despair for a break of this curse
One that bears the makings of cyclic existence
I cry out in resonance with David’s harp
One that knew the secrets of eternal Love
Linzo