What is blessing?
What is blossom?
What does hard work
Have to do
With my faith and trust?
How often does govern
Intervene with my magic,
Causing my inner blessing
To be lost in a sea of greed.
For my beacon
And my bacon
Do not get seared
Upon the same boiler.
I am a beacon
Like the sun;
Guiding by virtue,
Blazing in darkness,
Finding strength
Through built upon resistance,
Friction in consciousness,
And letting go
Until I no longer need to grasp.
Sitting here I hear policemen
Waving flags and shaming.
Sitting here I hear lawyers
Convincing me of wrongdoings.
Sitting here I hear government
Enacting laws of oppression.
Sitting here I hear,
And I see busy-ness
Building friction
To work itself into
Hellfire inferno.
From this darkness
Ignites foreverago,
A lost simplicity
Sitting in calm;
A bird singing,
A simple inclination,
Base necessities.
There is luxury in nothingness.
There is excess in freedom flow.
There is grand
In what we havent nurtured:
In an ancient Douglas fir,
In ripples of a frozen river,
In breath of wind,
In depth of a blossoming tulip.
There exists here
The base and carnal glow
Lifting thy vibrational flow.
What is blessing?
Did it come to you wrapped?
Did it accompany you from third to fourth gear?
Did it fly with you in a jet aeroplane?
Was it bought at Louis Vuitton?
Was it rolled up and smoked?
Was it intervened in a safety net,
An involuntary rule?
An orgasm of confusion?
What is blessing?
