To Ron
Soul tempering affliction
Put you on the outside
Looking in.
This will make you wise,
If not so now.
Pain is sandpaper,
Grinding away the callouses of sin
Layered on the light of
Consciousness.
Sin.those worthless
Scars of sleeping experience,
Which weigh the mind down,
Locking it in a shell of matter.
To make islands of illusions
Whose greatest desire
Is to return to the ocean
Which surrounds them
An ocean called infinity.
A moment fragment concept
Which gives sight
Without vision.
For.vision is divine
But at a high cost.
Pain.

Others seek,
And think they know,
But that is only self induced.
Ok'd by the herd,
But you dear friend
Had no choice,
Enlightenment in dark
Shroud,
Tapped you the shoulder,
And you should know.
For you still carry the mark
Of this secret blessing.
How does it feel to be
Chosen?

© 5/4/75
Stevon Lucero