Reverberations of Man

Image by: Captured Synchronicity

The echo of change is silent, while the beat of a heart is violent.

Reverberations of man rattling the dark sky.

Desolation rains upon empty brains;

When the wellspring of compassion runs dry.

 

Society devolved, destructed, derailed.

A potential utopia became a toy box of despair;

Neglected and discarded by tinker toys and tyrants.

 

They devour the needs of tomorrow for today’s paltry fortune.

I’ve seen mans’ greed coursing through his veins;

Spilling wickedness upon the earth with every election.

 

I’ve felt the cold, dead stare of indifference;

As children perish around men of power.

Burning a hole through my soul, the cries of the innocents.

 

Dimming darker, ever more desolate, diving deeper into the abyss.

Growing weaker, weary with this pain I’m feeling, fearing.

Deeper into my own being, can I be this man I am seeing?

 

Into nature I am fleeing, to become a righteous being.

My tree of life is sprouting, seeding;

Winds of change are blowing, breathing.

 

Blazing, my spirit is burning; the flame of my heart is raging.

Melted chains drip away from meditative brains;

When the inferno of compassion radiates within.

 

I’ve changed with the winds and rolled with the times; lived many lives.

Fallen to my knees in desperate despair, shouting to the nothingness above;

Watching tides break as the sun falls from the sky, indifferent to me.

 

I’ve smelled the crisp morning air, then the sea at dusk; heard the call of the raven and rumbling train;

I have stood upon the precipice of time and gazed into the essence of eternity,

Laughing at the sheer simplicity of the most complex creation.

 

I’ve loved lost in lust, trance-like, infatuated and enchanted;

Mesmerized, mystified, ensnared passionately by her Shiva grace.

Gazing through my ego, she holds me in her orbit, weaving love and karma into cosmic lace.

 

The echo of love is persistent, while the beat of her heart is evanescent.

The young soul fears losing these moments between the beats.

An old soul knows, all that isn’t makes it so.

 

 

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