My soul takes flight from a rest,
To seek out the noise that draws me to existence,
To take the stage play,
I take pleasure in transit.
My soul lands on existence plain,
To study that noise of deception,
To witness the tantrums that it plays,
I take my number with a motive in transit.
My soul searches on existence plain,
To take no joy from the fantasy,
To gain nothing from its fallacy,
I am inadequate in unraveling the complexity of the play in transit.
My soul rides the swing, seesaw, slide and merry-go-round in existence plain,
To enjoy a scriptless play,
To bow before the “hand behind it all”,
I discard the motive, and all its secrets in transit.
My soul walks with existence plain,
To realise originality is to be embraced,
To love the subtle beauty that transpires from it,
I take nothing, but understanding and acceptance in transit.
My soul lifts from existence plain,
To leave as light as I come,
To take only the noise acquainted by privilege,
I pass it on to souls who wait in transit.
My soul tires from the cycles of scripted plays,
To find the noise repeating, slowly reducing into silence,
To accept the invitation from the “hand behind it all”,
I return to my place of rest.
My soul closes its eyes,
To see the colors of existence fade,
To reveal only shades without the guises,
I take comfort in the “hand behind it all” with its radiating warmth caresses me back to sleep.