Censor Cycle

This is not a sad song

What is tragic is what is not said

For our minds are our keepers of all things fair

Knowing that your nothing like the rest of us

Is quite freeing if you dare

If you suppress the urge to show love

You are denying what was

For we can safely say we are no more than a shade of grey

A rippled puddle in the pocket of earths pitted face

If you censor yourself out of fear, where are your manners?

You would be denying me dessert

When you thought you were doing right-you actually hurt

I would like to explore every dimension of you

Have your mind as my 4-course meal

Submarine into your subconscious

For I have observed how our lives hang like crows on the line

One patient at a time in the purgatory waiting room we call life

I see I have no power to stop the sun from its rise

Like all creatures living

Like all creatures die

When you can diminish your high flame from the candle of self-purpose

And realize

That simply it is living

That will give you the right to meet the divine.