Mind, Jungle, Picture

Thoughts from the "perils" of "looking beneath the surface", instead of "beyond what is seen."

I sought understanding 

from foes that I fought;

Bereaved at the knowledge 

of the prison I bought,

How perilous an undertaking.

Searching friends, not expecting 

someone with a soul,

at the thought that "to be" 

need not mean "to be whole"

How delirious the self I'm making.

Attached with some names

never made to be owned

Like clay when not hardened

is made to be honed

How much real to be vilified faking.

Appraised with a value

of no relevance,

With the price of this prison,

this beautiful trance

How oblivious, to pain - escaping.

Author's Note

Mind: 1; Jungle: 2, 3; Picture; 4.