Opposite sides
lie entrenched
polarized in certainty.

There's a stench.
A dead argument rots
like a corpse.

Every time we get this close
we look the other way.

Misfit. Outfit.
The world is split.
Nothing seems to fit.
Inside outside
is inside?

I bit
and bought
half of it.
(then spit it all out)

Don't believe me
when I tell you
I'm not real,
Just a figment,
a pigment
of the light.
Nothing more.
No one was right.

That was me up there
nailed to a tree.
(dying)

I helped you
drive the last nail through.

That was you
wrapped in a straight jacket,
crying.

I sent you there
without a care.

And we killed each other
time and time again
all in the name
of me.

Are we hypnotized?

Time is a pendulum
swinging back and forth
going nowhere.

Ego paces.
What to do? What to do?

It knows it cannot outlast
Forever...

The pendulum's momentum
getting slower and slower.

And there's a lake 
in the forest
being very still.

A breeze blows 
through trees
like a conscious spirit
as a fortress begins to dissolve
like a spell.

The pendulum slowing,
slowing almost forever,
nestling into the 
center,
swallowed up in stillness

where rivers rush,
washing us
into the ocean 
of the moment
delivered,

born 
at an alter
in an infinite sea.

This deepest yearning fulfilled
by realization 
of soul.

(The pendulum swings no more)