Funny in a way,
everything we say.
Never really aware,
none but noise bare.
It is actually quite fun,
the way that they run.
I know their thought,
yes every little nought.
There can be no secrets,
without mental retreats.
Consciousness my scout,
in every one that sprout.
Just an energetic wave,
an only in motion slave.
Call it physical dynamics,
maybe it is them magics.
Arrangement is the same,
only the mediums are lame.
In the mind I view them fade,
into endless intellectual shade.
Just another sentence, just a line,
and all of it does not have to rhyme.
Helpless to ignore, pointless probably,
to stop the installation of neurocircuitry.
Only the perceived retards may wonder,
illiterate and blinded by the yonder.
Lively protected and innocent,
they paid no mind for rent.
I see them do the die roll,
see for who the bell toll.
Not much of a mystery,
just another probability.
So it goes for fluid motion,
just another thought notion.
Accumulated by the perception,
then cognated into verbal perfection.
It is all nothing but infinite consciousness,
of which the most people seem to have less.
Never anything said, never self expressed,
only their lack off and all else repressed.
So they keep wonder why they die,
but ‘life is a game’ they all lie.
The Kingdom is not for them all,
as made evident every single fall.
The rest is just a matter of scales,
that which human perception fails.
Oh you just wait and see,
as sure as three plus three.
It is beautiful and else all,
at least if you got the call.
It is just a spring clean for may,
so that nature is not so city-gray.
To you it is just words and tricks,
but it is gematric mathematics.
An animating phenomenon,
growing, growing and gone.
