Seeing is through disbelieving.
Not through the tampering or elimination of thoughts,
But the polite disregard for their quiet stories of un-joined-up-ness,
And for the forever broken replica of life that we hold up as life.
And if you turn, for a moment, away from these words,
You’ll find a loyal reality that was never broken,
A joined-up life, as life can only be.
You’ll find loved ones who were never apart from you,
And you’ll laugh at the nightmare of things seeming not to be so
And you’ll take a friendly swat at those clumsy clouds that float right through you
As if they owned the place.
Constant Voice 