Pseudo Spiritual Intellectual

The winds may lie low, or may soar high,

The mast and the sails, they have fatigued of lifetimes,

Sail light and sail free,

Push the baggage into the sea,

Born in the morning, dead by the night,

Reborn everyday, in the same life.

Past was an illusion,

Future is delusion,

What does exist is,

Just the manifestation.

Some is the intent,

And some is the action,

Intertwined together,  

Understand, only through cosmic divination.

Meditation brings,

Vivid images,

Of  the regressed lives ?

No, of the kids fight..

Spiritualism took me,

Half way inside,

While I was to liberate,

The voices got me awake.

The fees to be paid,

The rent is due,

The business to be closed,

I am materialism’s residue.

Some day I will get together again,

Search the soul in some drawer,

Pack up for the remaining travel,

Merge into the consciousness much higher.

Go to some cave in Himalayas,

If the Himalayas will still exist,

Not if replaced by classy Meditation center,

Thousand dollars for a brief inside glimpse.