Consciousness turned inward through pineal gland trapdoor,
Opens the universe I know well and love to explore,
I've sidled my way through with meditative beats,
Now let's search for circadian rhythmic treats,
Answers perhaps to my sorrow on the other side,
Maybe a set of rules for which my conscience can abide,
Patterns recognized as a golden ratio,
Fly about my soul, nature never fails to bestow,
The glory of it all too immense for explanation,
Disappears in a second if you lapse in concentration,
Time dilation resets to the matrix constant,
You glance in the mirror and see a face so despondent.
Farls Tokley
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Bark Has Bite feat. Carbuncles
PoésieA mixed bag, next handful a whole new ball game. This collection of poems was born from Sunday drives with parents as a kid and doing the same with my son. It's fun to listen to our favourite music and watch the scenery fly by. As a teenager and yo...
