Poem!


OVERNIGHT

God and his faithful servants know the way to the Straight Path of Favors, that is void of His Wrath. But some of us travel on another road, and are of three kinds;

(1) those who are lost and think they are going in the right direction. These are the fools. Only God can turn a fool around. They are unwitting allies of Satan. They represent the majority of satan’s legions. The mirrors of the world are filled with fools who think they are looking into the eyes of righteousness. They judge others with severity, but they judge themselves with eyes blinded by ego centristic cataracts.

(2) Then there are those who know they are going in the wrong direction; argue that the wrong way is the right way; and are dedicated to misdirecting any wayfarer foolish enough to cast faith in Ultimate Reality, reason, caution and scrutiny to the wind. These are Damned Devils. They are the worst of human kind. And they are cursed by God, man, and The Arch Angel Gabriel.

(3) And then there are the ones who are lost; know they are lost; and are searching for the right direction to The Favored Path. They interact with fools, devils, and other searchers, until they find The Path, or lose heart and are lead astray forever. This is the story of a man who eventually came to The Crossroads - The Juncture between Good and Evil -- God’s Way and The Path of Ego. I am referring to the psychic place where The Path of Martyrs intersects the Path of Cowardice. Like this one, these profound episodes of conscience, and consciousness often occur in the still of darkness, while everyone else is asleep. And they tend to dramatically alter a person’s direction due to the commitments, and decisions that are made after pondering overnight.

The desire to be completely free;
To feel, hear, taste, speak-on, and see
The synergy between The Divine Ever presence, and my humanity,
Moves me to flee from the slavery of The Excuse,
“I don’t have the time.”
I don’t have the time?

A fifty thousand year time warp thwarts The Excuse
Which is nothing but the abuse
Of free will.
And I am drilled
By the shuddering Chill, that fills the soul
When it recognizes that The Curse
Is worse than the Pauper’s purse,
Which