The White Light of Life.
by rewired
03/03/02
I walked the streets again today, choking down
my lack of meaning,
fists in my pockets, I closed my eyes and
tried to see beyond the seeming,
but it always comes back around again:
power-hungry, dictating assholes swarming like flies around the pile of bullshit we call life...
but I saw the beauty again last weekend:
the world bloomed in a pill swallowed.
Her hand rested on my shoulder
as she massaged my back
and we gazed down at the world.
With my feet dangling, I watched
the crowd of faces sweating off
their madness in gifts of bliss and glory, but
the high and connection never lasts,
storm clouds come along again.
Why couldn’t I feel that way forever?
Is the key somewhere inside of me?
Will I be left here for all eternity, walking the streets,
breathing smoke, bathed in the muck of my own negativity?
Can't I will my own transformation, shed my own damned skin?
Can't I open myself to change without this chemically-induced altered perception?
Is there a beauty out there waiting for me to see through clear, bright, open eyes?
Or does it take chemicals and beautiful friends
to touch the white light of life?
by rewired
03/03/02
I walked the streets again today, choking down
my lack of meaning,
fists in my pockets, I closed my eyes and
tried to see beyond the seeming,
but it always comes back around again:
power-hungry, dictating assholes swarming like flies around the pile of bullshit we call life...
but I saw the beauty again last weekend:
the world bloomed in a pill swallowed.
Her hand rested on my shoulder
as she massaged my back
and we gazed down at the world.
With my feet dangling, I watched
the crowd of faces sweating off
their madness in gifts of bliss and glory, but
the high and connection never lasts,
storm clouds come along again.
Why couldn’t I feel that way forever?
Is the key somewhere inside of me?
Will I be left here for all eternity, walking the streets,
breathing smoke, bathed in the muck of my own negativity?
Can't I will my own transformation, shed my own damned skin?
Can't I open myself to change without this chemically-induced altered perception?
Is there a beauty out there waiting for me to see through clear, bright, open eyes?
Or does it take chemicals and beautiful friends
to touch the white light of life?
