With trepidation I continue down this path

I question my own skepticism.

I've even reached the point where all the doors which were portrayed to open other universes seem to be but a dream, the key being acceptance, and the lock being the imagination.

The horror is a constant, I do not understand those who claim compassion yet fail to recognize this.

My greatest fear is that we truly are all connected. What a bitter tragedy.

If external splendor is internal corruption, perhaps at times internal corruption is external splendor.

I do not have the answers, it only seems more questions, more doubt, more recognition that I simply do not know, and I never will.

Perhaps, acceptance of how ignorant we all are in terms of the universe both within and without will be the only escape from this labyrinth.

It's not a maze, I only made it so, because it can not possibly be that simple.

It is that difficult, one path, many ways. Some are stumbling back to the center. A maze would at least make sense, give an excuse for this fallacy.

If my body were a weapon, it is one I would discard, for it takes way too much effort to keep it maintained.

If it were silence, I would cherish it. I've heard that silence.

The river or creek never changes, only the definition if it is but one body of water or many parts forming into that whole body of water. If it is the former, step in and out all you want, it will be just as deep in the same parts for quite a bit of time. If it is the latter, its only your mind telling you that.

Perception is limited to the infinite, incapable of recognizing the microscopic aspects.

We only value ascension over the opposite for we value our head above our feet.

All these thoughts and ideas are a metaphor, any concept can not be fully coherent.

If all experience is valid, what of that of the insane?

I have changed peoples lives. It is only a memory. Memory falters.

It is sheer trickery that a small amount of individuals are completely complacent in this existence. They are used to create fear, shame, and jealousy, nothing more. They are our potential, our branches reaching to the sun.

The planets circle me. I know nothing more, only the planets circle me.

Abandoned hopes, its in the cards. Acceptance of limitation. Recognition of potential. Find the balance.

the audacity of hope by patrick l. bertlein

I live in a world of dreams

where life fades into the horizon

a setting sun of failures and accomplishments

and never quite enough gets done

so I sit here in astonishment

of all that has gone wrong

If only my thoughts that hasten

would simply be complacent

and wander off to other worlds

to bother other humans

I sit childishly swatting at mosquitoes

and once again losing the words

It seems that at times is an inspiration

a flicker of time that is lost like love

on hot days when sleep is a dream

and the heart is overcome with frustration

if only I could hold onto the moment

and stretch it out to the corners of the earth

make it a blanket for the world to find warmth

my tears cleansing your holy feet


Too much I want from this life

from this world, from my friends

and all my loved ones
the preciousness of existence

 is a reflection of this

knowing how special these seconds we have

and how soon they will be gone

Oh how can I ignore the hands of time?

as the sand slowly drips to the ground

like the faucet I could not fix


The fragility of these thoughts

and how they overcome my senses

sends me into a spiral

that far surpasses all defenses

and all the while I stand witness

to life and the worlds trespasses

Violated my voice will be victorious

and explore this silence
or surely fall prey to the worse madness

that of a world not perceived by vision
nor spoken of by tongue

the blackest imaginable sun

As the flickering flame lashes
like the snake seeking its scent
to recognize where it is at
and what surrounds the body
all hope is dried kindle
and as this day will surely dwindle

I recognize the dusks twinkle

and reside amongst a pale sky
awaiting the terror of the mind
the only thing sure to come
taunting my present self

with what shall surely become

Fatigue slowly drains my body

and soon I will be interrupted

with the chitter chatter of others

not knowing that I have to listen

so the squirrel will be quiet

a subconscious has its message

and I am only hear to listen

This is worse than a puppet

as the scissors are in my fingers

perhaps upon the glorious dawn
I shall hear the sound of the trumpet

and tomorrow find the old hollow

in which life once existed

until than I can not be triumphant

for this day has once again been conquered

by the possibilities dwindling
as they greet the nights twinkling

watching and laughing eyes

This too shall pass

My glimpse into the future was the ruin of my existence. How I loathe and envy the ignorant. They shall not hear these words, mind these fears, nor include these thoughts into the current dialog. Fantasies of a world that is always in day light, the night having been restricted by our ability to light the world and eliminate the shadows. They will curse this a proverb, a metaphor, a mere story. Cliché is at times truth, certain metaphors stick around with us, and symbols are everywhere. Myth. Our incarnations are as valid as Grimm’s Fairy Tales. One myopic speck in time, but its all so real. Our paradox is a real paradox. The box, which I know one who has spoken of, in which we exist; this screen, cars, home. This is earth, it is cube, yearning to be formed. Perhaps this is a transmutation into new forms, a transcendence preparing for the inevitable descent. Either way, we know of the future, and we know of the torment that is the rising, the changing. Did you ever think Chrysalis was a pleasant form of being? You who have witnessed the Metamorphosis. You who have witnessed the man turned into wolf, a legend from Ancient Europe’s time. We will not enjoy this. Those whose comforts have prevented them from witnessing this incredible and terrifying change shall only find the veil removed, with eyes opening to the Sun refusing to witness what we have become. Blinded. In terror we shall collectively scream, a monumental awakening of the voice that will be our call to distant worlds. Worlds, that stand witness, as do I. I.

The galaxy was formed by a Nova or Supernova exploding and forever changing the expanding dust we were into a spiral. Swastika. Yod. Saturn brings the necessary structure, limitation. To forever expand is to be trapped in infinity. Hail Thy Almighty Void.  I understand some have a benevolent perception of the world. These creatures have been given a burden that no wise individual would ask for. Just enough of these individuals exist, in order to keep many of us stuck in this karmic disguise. Our costume is in desperate need of repair.

We must purify the flesh with flames, standing witness. Clarity of mind is the recognition that this world we live in truly exists. In the words of Lawrence, “the horror, the horror.” This may be an amputee, a child’s death, cancer, car accident, it will happen. We carry on knowing that any moment, this may enter our reality. It will. This is certain. Our suffering is the only thing in this form that we can be sure of. This is the first rule of Buddha, and perhaps a select few have reached a place where they no longer exist within this suffering. Perhaps. In a world where gurus are villain’s just definitions are preposterous. The missing piece of the puzzle is that we can only assume the hierarchy of one over the other. We have no evidence, only faith.

The air is so heavy. The haunting of these desperate fantasies is creating schizophrenia. A glimpse, a vision, you can even call this divination. Believe in what prophecy you will, be it Tarot, a crystal ball, or Physics. I Me I Me I Me I Me I Me I Me I Me. Some have been taught, yet only the concept and not the thought. A continuation towards ruin, knowing the patterns, watching the birds. Listen to the Crow. It is happening right now, a being is being manipulated. Somewhere, someone’s world just collapsed. This is every second.  Our baptism must be formed from drowning the world in our tears. Perhaps the salt will corrode what has created this sickness. An overwhelming awareness is a reaction from the condition of reaching towards the corners of the world. Perhaps, somewhere too, is joy? Lovers embracing, a child’s laughter. These are only the one I Me that lead to the other I Me. They are both you.  When duality is unified, the crucifixion is a constant.

My body is sore today, travelling through the depths is never an easy journey. It seems the only constant is the mournful reflection of the past, opportunities drifting through fingers like piles of sand, getting caught in the wind and transporting themselves to a new world. A world within this world, and without. Sanity is a tenacious thing. Words compound into other words, each subtle element opening the firmament of being. Earth reaches upwards, only to embrace my form and pull me back within. I know not of what the future holds, certainly tears and laughter. At best, we can hope for some semblance of balance, but our individual journeys are being manipulated by this collective disarray. When you cut your flesh my scars dance.

I must go on, if only to bear witness to the inevitable tragedy. The portal was opened, hidden aspects of existence revealed only to dissipate into the akashic records. Some know, but when the information is downloaded the wave will drown. Others insanity exists only to placate your own slipping grasp, the burden is mine. As you sit lugubriously ecstatic that you have been spared, recognize the Fool who dances who brings you so much laughter is truthfully mocking you. We laugh at ourselves, laughing at ourselves. This laughter is an echo of the scream, the terror, which will finally unite us all. We will be one, condensed into a single unity which is the conglomeration of all the filth within. All secrets shall be revealed, the madness awaits.