Delusional Sacks and Bags

NO

Those are not carefully packed sacks

Full of rocks,

Judgments and regrets

Tied firmly around my scrotum

Prince Albert-ed

Around my neck

HOW DARE YOU

Try to tell me those illusions

That ensue me

Might actually

despite

My heroic lifelong battle

To evade and elude them

Be tangible or true

That my warrior like will to persevere

To engage in a shirking

Battle with my Atelophobic fears

Might be some sort of

Time stealing, Fools errand.

And that I may have actually

Unintentionally created them,

That they might only be smokey intrusions

Like A magicians slight of hand

Creating trickery and delusion

Not the arguable realness of the fears you see,

Just my ability to

Own them

Acknowledge them

Transmute them into some elevated

Or even reasonable part of me

Hmm,

Than what might be in

This scratchy itchy burlap bag

Full of anchors

Lead weights and

Despicable rancors

That I blame for occasionally holding my head

And nostrils just below the breaking whitecaps

If there not really there, would that make me crazy

Holding sanity by a tattered bootstrap

And what of this peripheral pillowcase

Full of habits

Addictions, projections and

Historically poor predispositions

That I treat so gingerly,

To ignore,

to not disturb or awaken

To keep them sedated from my awareness
that leaves me breathless

More often foolish and careless

Wait,  Hold on here

One just escaped

squirmed its way into the clear!

I remember that one from when I was a kid

It lived in the corners,

And under my bed

I incubated it with juvenile terror

And frankenstien-ishly brought it to life,

And now its plagued me

Pursued me,

Like the dark

Chasing light

And now upon a second reflection,

Now that it’s exposed, and I take an improved look

Its terrifying cartoonish appearance,

I think

Yes I may,

Have gotten that persona from a book

It’s just a humble young memory

Seeking proper attention

Childlike,

no malice or

wrongful intention

As I acknowledge it

Let it go

I feel somewhat nimbler

And lighter

Could this be true?

Possibly,

Lets see if I intentionally release another

Is it now coming clearer into view

That these baskets of collected conglomerations

Gravity dense luggage’s full of debilitating beliefs

Misconstrued reminiscences

Misunderstood ruminations

Begging only for a breath of light

My Loving acknowledgement

And a merciful conflagration

Have I potentially had it all backwards

Gotten it all wrong?

That when I journey to sleep

I actually awaken

And conversely return to maya slumber

In the reversed waking moments

In the breaking of dawn

That these heavy bags and baskets

Carriers and sacks

Are only alarms clocks to my reality?

a restless stirring to my emergence,

my divine lucidity?

Agreed to,

Cosmic Training weights on my back

When I shed and release them

My wings do unfold

And ill appreciate flight

Far better

Courageous and bold

As I complete my ascending journey

Towards wholeness

Towards truth

In The sacred fires of attachment burning

Yes!

Ill claim all this baggage, for a moment

And not one second more

For if owning them

Actually releases them

Than strike a match

Lets be sure

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