Deep Sleep Is Shaken

Heroes that walk on Earth,
Are called by the Heavens
To step outside the mosaics
Of the Seen, the Known,
Into a subtler paradigm.

Their adorations for the clay hands,
The hurry to live fast,
The blade of right and wrong,
The bargain of illusions,
The milking of everything that is,
Can resume with an epiphany,
An impromptu quake.

The concerts of the mind would faint,
Fitting into patterns would be forgotten,
Those identity avatars be diffused,
Mass programming abandoned,
When the darkest shadows awaken
By opening the lids
Of the lucid, Conscious Eye.

by Ayni Poet

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