quiet . . .

quiet

a quiet breath

a quiet thought

a quiet mind

waiting for the dawning of realization

of the meaning of life,

it’s toil,

it’s suffering,

it’s indifference

betwixt the children

dis-chord-dance is the prevalent composition

of the symphony

the music of our existence

the conductors are blinded

by the misplaced and askew harmonies

of objective selfishness

pain merchants are plotting

new rules to the game

or perhaps . . .

new games for all the unwilling

unconscious

sleepers

who are intoxicated by delusion

and doctrines

and tradition

and variegated colors

we play absent mindedly in the gardens

of the absent hearted

callously going through the motions

with unanchored smiles

and untethered dreams

eating the unleavened bread of sorrows

yet still we have

a quiet breath

that we may breathe new life

a quiet thought to bring forth resuscitations

a quiet mind

that we may spawn creation

and we can reach back

to a better “now”

let us indwell in the stillness

become the genesis of change

dust off the lanterns

that the light may permeate the darkness of the noise

cast aside the voices of chaos

that rides the mounts of pride

and ego . . .

let the Power Mongers open their eyes

and look into the face of their demons

and see fate’s unwavering cosmic law of balance

and become “in” lighted

and we will walk once again

with one

quiet breath

a quiet thought

a quiet mind

of love

(c)    8 November 2010 : William S. Peters, Sr.