the truth

Little child

the truth is the puddle you stand in...will never drown you.

pockets of time will open up in your life,

where

the chaos will still , and the truth will be there,

shining like a star.

We are all lost.

we invented time

and this order...we call life.

It's a path that we were herded down like sheep

sold on a lie

placed in pens called houses.

our young plucked from the outside

and placed on desks that open and feed them knowledge from paper.

We were meant to feed our young by our voices,

only the verbal tales that survived passed down are what they need to know.

We cram needless history into their minds,

...carry this...its not yours, but you must carry it...

Each life is one to be lived anew

what you do with it is yours.

we have been separated from the truth.

its forgotten now,

repetition and fear of the elders who obeyed their elders

who obeyed back to the beginning where the masters queued mankind into to the gates to the slaughter house

you will glimpse the truth

in dreams that fade as you open your eyes.

when you can stand in the rain

and your realize if you ignore the drops you can feel the pattern of the space around them

and you too will be unable to

put the truth to words.