Since all conceptions of ultimate reality are specious
discard the juvenile back stories
leaving only what is now.
It’s needful and sometimes fun to look behind the masks
but Earth is burning
with the beauty of lilacs
the beauty that only exists
when you have a heart that can see it.
When the eye of the heart is closed
you are just a bit more than a tool
for maintaining a meaningless world
just a bit more than a robot because
robots feel nothing
but you inwardly grieve
for something you know you have lost.