Viscous Cycle

I see them there,
out in the World.
Out, in the World,
mired in confusion,
stuck within the confines,
of their uncontrolled,
consciousness creation.
Or cut into pieces to fit in little boxes.
Who pays the piper?
Are you the hammer,
or the nail?

Nothing runs cleaner
than the mountain stream,
for the dreamer.
Who scales high peaks,
who hears Her nature speak?
Beyond mere words,
and all verbs subsumed within,
the application of love,
making love in life,
to everything.

What is sin?
What do you bring to the table?
What song does your soul sing?


~MStJ