Wolf In Woolen Guise How many miles to Heaven, If we were to journey there, Or could it be one step away, On an illusory stair, Me, I think its all around us, Just a blink and there well be, That once we breathe our final breath, Clearly then well see, And if its not so very far, Invisible to our eyes, Maybe distance isnt real, Just a garden where time flies, Perhaps the world we see and know, Is nothing but a dream, Even the stars we view above, Are not as far as they might seem, Could it be as babes were taught, These hellish prison bars, Handed down by ages old, Infectious mental scars, A disease thats spread, dressed a boon, To hide a simple truth, All the years we count by day, Have no effect upon our youth, Maybe age is but a figment, Imagined by our flock, Foist upon us unbeknownst, By every ticking clock, Could there be locked in our hearts, The Philosophers Stone once lost, That missing key inside us all, Sold by a Secret cost, Matter, light, space, and time, Shallow terms to understand, This pallid cell in which we dwell, Now locked by our right hand, Hubris thats so damned appealing, Wed rather die than let it go, But who would dare admit our wrong, All the seeds that have been sewn, And we all know when farmers come, Who are willing to plow the fields, Men with gold, collected in the shadows, Love to have them killed, So lets forget and close our eyes, All the words that weve just read, Pull our blankets fast upon us, Lie like children on our beds, Drift away to dream a place, Where at times we all have wings, Meet strange friends, do mighty deeds, Odd and wondrous things, For easier to sleep than to admit, The old wolf in woolen guise, Is wearing that exact same wool, Thats been pulled over our eyes. - DNH 07/2014
Posted on: Mon, 07 Jul 2014 08:54:16 +0000
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