When we realize we are run by a grand demented myth, we also see that we can correct our errors, choose our premises and most basic beliefs.
Little white bugs cling to screens unmoving
tiny fervent prayers to false light proving
the revelation by the sun. Sigils
inorganic incited this vigil
and now in exhaustion they appeal. Change
focus, clean the lens. Culture’s deranged
and every word is crafted to entrance
concealing Sophia’s emerging dance.
I vow to correct errors, so each wound
I feel intensely, ride the wave. I’ve crooned
too long the soothing song but now it’s clear
the psychopaths’ cachets belong not here.
Grounded, connected intuition flows
past these oblivious and clueless schmos
who I now see clearly, evil exposed.
Intentional I face Sophia’s foes.