where lies my true self ?
am I a creature of my psychology
or does my deepest self lie
in the burning fires
of my mythology ?
so bold and so gripping
that every feeling, every act
lies in the imagined stories
of God’s and Goddesses
of demons and of angels
of the impossible dance of shiva
of the the cruxifiction of christ
of the contradictions between the eternity of the universe
where everything is and is not
all at the same time
of the questions between illusory and the real ?
where do I find completeness ?
where do i delve to find answers
even to everyday life
am I trapped in the arrogance of intellectuality
am I trapped by the cages of fear
created by by my own mind
why do i struggle everyday
between my psychology
and mythology ?
why can I not take flight
into a realm that is impossible
do I exist in the impossible ?
and if so, why do I not see it all the time
why am In so blind ?
that the universality of my existence
is an argument I must have
with myself everyday ?
why am i not able
to plunge headlong into the unknown adventure ?
why am I not
able to plunge my psychology into mythology
why am I so stuck in an argument
between words that I said yesterday
and the words that come out today
why am i stuck in meaning ?
when there is no meaning to anything
yet in giving up meaning
is the gate way to understanding
why must I make sense of words that I write anyway ?