Sometimes I wake with so much self hate,
Towards my fate,
It makes me irate!
I see William Blake,
And realise that; I see matter is fake,
We are all made up of energy;
Of light and of love,
Yet we loose sight of this as awareness,
As it flies away like a transcendent Dove,
So I’m flooded by the world,
I put up my hood,
To shield me from the pain,
What’s to gain?
I need to learn to let it rain,
To be plain,
In that there is no shame!
Love I cannot contain,
I won’t refrain,
I walk a path of turbulent terrain,
I feel people’s strain,
So onto the train,
Holding tightly onto my mane,
Feeling the gusts and the gales,
Hoping we don’t derail,
Until the gentle breezes return,
That kiss our cheeks,
And make us feel once again complete,
Brushing our skin like a smooth satin sheet,
Soothing our worries,
Realising there is no need to be in such a hurry!
Time to stop the scurry.