A Search For Life
What is life, if not a spiritual adventure?
Within a symphony of silence,
Outwith the canned conversation,
Tranquil thoughts meander slowly,
Softly rippling dreamy visions,
A contented muse of peacefulness,
Distract me not from this mentality,
The blank stare of perfection,
That brings release from the world's cruel reality.
The heathen principles of conformation,
Confirmed by the solidity of rules,
Is merely a prison to free thought,
That dulls the exploration of the soul,
I ponder, therefore I am,
My spirit soars on the biting wind,
Seeking solace from misunderstanding,
Searching out the truth at hand.
Mystery lives in a house of confusion,
The enigma of rigmarole,
Complicated, incoherent, disconnected,
No easy resolution unfolds,
We must not put confidence in that which is unknown,
As it shall surely come back to haunt us,
Rush not that knowledge which you gather,
But absorb the root of its cause.
Taste the elixir of the pipedream,
As its vapors expand your mind's horizons,
Browsing through a library of memories,
Can mere thoughts be canonized?
Sorting through the data of information,
I need no will to fight nor defend,
For mine is the quest that conquers all fear,
To hold the breath life in the palm of my hand.
By Harry Boslem
What is life, if not a spiritual adventure?
Within a symphony of silence,
Outwith the canned conversation,
Tranquil thoughts meander slowly,
Softly rippling dreamy visions,
A contented muse of peacefulness,
Distract me not from this mentality,
The blank stare of perfection,
That brings release from the world's cruel reality.
The heathen principles of conformation,
Confirmed by the solidity of rules,
Is merely a prison to free thought,
That dulls the exploration of the soul,
I ponder, therefore I am,
My spirit soars on the biting wind,
Seeking solace from misunderstanding,
Searching out the truth at hand.
Mystery lives in a house of confusion,
The enigma of rigmarole,
Complicated, incoherent, disconnected,
No easy resolution unfolds,
We must not put confidence in that which is unknown,
As it shall surely come back to haunt us,
Rush not that knowledge which you gather,
But absorb the root of its cause.
Taste the elixir of the pipedream,
As its vapors expand your mind's horizons,
Browsing through a library of memories,
Can mere thoughts be canonized?
Sorting through the data of information,
I need no will to fight nor defend,
For mine is the quest that conquers all fear,
To hold the breath life in the palm of my hand.
By Harry Boslem
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