~ a poem

We spend so much time inside our own mind.
Trapped within inner, searching for answers
Wielding illusions to help us unwind
Immersed in the chaos of motion like dancers

Given answers to questions unasked,
All to solve the puzzles of life
We forge ahead but masked,
We are unwell, forever in strife

Where is the self,

where is it located?
In mind, the codes of existence.
holding my reality, well articulated.
wavering waves, Primitive persistence.

An affinity for revelations
With the power to create or destroy
Inside the locked room is the foundation,
of a person understood, or a decoy?

This knowledge all unkept
We are complex, entangled and weeping unchecked
It may be incapable of natural comprehension;
Obscured to the fault of the exploring dimension

How then, do we discover it?
Not without the hands of those that keep it, that created it, hid it away
With newfound knowledge, perhaps an existential fear to allay?
Or in the doorway, do we step into a newer, enlightened decay?
Any secret has to be viewed from the unalterable perspective,
the unconscionable reverse of the selfless-persona,
Without this, understanding is unobtainable,
But perhaps, so is the context we seek

Because that’s what a secret is.
A truth so real, so fully realized and borne of the soul, it has to be hidden.
But it must also be found.
Only one can know it, contain it, nurture it, and delve into it; only the self.
Only you can understand // only you can reveal
That’s what a secret is —
Truth Incarnate.

Mystery is the Avatar we all conceive
Each of us, madcaps for the human condition
Our ambitions rest on tomorrow’s intrigue
Two truths here are given:

A secret is the only thing worth knowing.
All life is a secret. ~