A Bird Within you Sings [poem]

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It all starts with the single thought:
There’s nowhere that I have to go,
nowhere that I have to be,
no one that I must impress —
and suddenly…
I’m free
to be
the being
I was meant to be
before the “I” I really am
was obfuscated
by the cryptogram
of futile plans
and moulded into
what I think is me
(but isn’t really “me” at all)
[for selfies of whatever kind
are just a sham {or even scam!}]
like Russian dolls which must be
pulled apart
until one finds
there’s just the core
and then
there is
nothing more
for us
to say
all foolishness
and frippery
will fade away
and only laughter
you will hear
which may be you
or angel choirs
and nothing will be feared
for no thing is our home
[we’re only cosmic roamers
in the gloaming
of this aeon’s end
spawned here for more
than following the latest trends
accruing things
becoming someone else’s strings
or clinging onto others’ wings
exchanging rings
or having flings]

The truth is this:
a bird within you sings
awaiting you to join your voice
for then together sounds will bring
you to your knees
in rapturousful rhapsody
the end of “self”dom’s parody
{exquisitely our choice}


© Alan Morrison, 2019

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