There's a door in the midst of pain and suffering.
The Lock is forged out of the strongest material known to man, Pride.
There is no key hole, for it is jammed with a subtle substance called ignorance.
There is no ram that can knock this door down,
For it is made of the strongest material known to man and extra terrestrial, our emotions.
Only the humble will see the door.
Only the worthy will knock.
Only then may the Dweller of the Threshold unlock the doors of mystery.
ATMAN
THE BOX
I live in a box, sleep in a box, shower in a box, drive in a box, eat out a box, work in a box, and die in a box.
You have seen decay in me.
You have seen the light of my eyes.
In order to be content in this box the light must slowly die.
Then this so called illusion of a box disappears,
But the box itself still remains.
Who can escape this box, and what for? If
only to find a box within a box, within a box.
It is not the box we must escape.
It is the light that must stay lit!
How? With no oxygen, closed in, I suffocate.
Breathe then...
Can't See ?
When you are in the Dark without Purpose,
Do you turn on the light to see?
Do you turn it off when your eyes hurt?
Is it the fault of the light that your eyes hurt? Or is it your eyes that have not yet adjusted...?
The Light hurts the eyes of those that sit in dark places.
But Dark places stub the toe...
