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The Wasteland Of Existence



Teeming in the wasteland of existence

is the nothingness that resides within the everythingness.

The oasis is a looming mirage—

a nightmare pretending to be a dream—

made up of homogenised illusion:

the blood, sweat and tears of the egomaniacs.

An invitation into this seeming sanctuary

is the invitation into a cesspool of perpetuated unconscious shadow.

Acceptance of this reality is an acceptance of

disassociation from lucidity, clarity, and sovereignty.

Staying conscious requires drinking from the watering hole

of which the liquid is a painstaking elixir of truth

and though it replenishes and demystifies the reality of the wasteland,

it turns truth thirst seekers

into alienated outcasts—

soon perceived by the sheepish dwellers of the oasis, as

the sting of scorpions and venom of snakes.

Cast astray into the hands of grace,

truth is Eden on earth,

a demystified cosmic consciousness

pretending to be a wasteland

pretending to be a desolate place





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