If I was a painter.
With scenes and colour,
Id capture your tranquil state.
If I was a singer.
Gladly id soothe and hum,
Transporting you to that blissful place.
How do you even put into words,
An awareness of nothing..
But also everything.
No problems to distract.
Memories or confusion.
I find it quite hard in fact,
To explain this wonderous peace.
In a life of tricksters..
That constant fix.
Absorbed with so much,
So much which means nothing to us.
Lost in the mitts...
Hands tied in boundless,
Shackles of things we thought would make us happy.
But they don't...
Lies and justifications,
So beautifully slip from the tongue.
Conveniently ignoring that voice in your head.
Telling you your wrong.
Listen to that knot in your stomach.
Those butterflies frantically trying to get your attention.
Re learn simplicity.
No other invention.
Save yourself from the collective prevention.
The murder of Peace.