spiritual language poetry & writings

a mamaist dive

 

 

In over your head remembering the dead?
Fear is not an option plunging to the limits and
Putting legacy on the line for big payday.
In order to sound the depths (no chance to cash in
On these angels), you must go
To the verge of identity all your own, raising risk
Of pressure (could mean trouble). But when disheartened, hang on.
You’re not trying to invent utopias.
Rather, “It’s a test to see how far you can go,
If you grow on the earth in different ways.”
These are great depths of yours, currently
Being plumbed, whose proceeds will go
To fund growth…until reaching bottom,
Where the dead tell you:

Don’t damn the old money before ensuring
There exists sufficient supplies of the new.

But time now to come back up for air, for a crowded world,
As you make a beeline for the surface
To (scientifically) determine which states of being
Truly belong, knowing as you do now
There are mysteries you’ll never know,
Mysteries that stay hidden in nature’s darkness,
Like a light.

 

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