Concentric 

 

The ‘hows?’ are locked down in the basement, the ‘whys?’ are trapped up in the attic.

The truth is often several stories too high, or too low, to be of any use, to us…white lies are just, easier to trust 

We strive to see, our perspective rise, with our pasts disguised as now, looking for the wise with know-how 

For every waking minute, we see, the ego diminishes, what we analyse… within our minds , we realize,  eyes were never that precise.

As we visualize and manifest our goals, the ‘why?’ is the cause, the ‘how?’ is the reaction, governing our laws of attraction. A dispondent correspondence, that vibrates even the greatest of pagans…

In the maddening mystery, that is the architecture of our surreal reality,  it is from the ‘whys?’ we derive true satisfaction, the ‘hows?’ are but beautiful distractions.

Perched in the dark, like the old owl, The whys make us wiser, the hows make us howl. We take flight into the untold night… The wise always find out how, by asking why 

moral fabric

Sever ties, or sew it’s seems…fabricated materialism tightly woven into a dream…

Buttons pushed, tighter at the collar…the emperor needs a new suit, for which he will pay top dollar…

Strung along ever so gently, tucked neatly into a pocket, ironed out,nice and clean….Or so it seams…

Fabricated materialism;

satin stitches sewn, the emperors stunning new suit, embroidered with silky half truths…And severed ties…

A striking moral fabric! …That feels like wool over the eyes…