Caught up in routines


Caught up in routines,
we operate on automatic,
perhaps,
as oblivious machines,
or toys in the attic.

But to become conscious,
in its deeper connection,
brings light to the darkness,
of its mystical protection.

Your heart beats,
you take a breath,
endlessly, it repeats,
until worn-out in death.

Its that part of you,
that tells your body’s cells,
to repair like new,
and cast magic spells.

It gets you from here to there,
like you’re in another dimension,
when you are not even aware,
or paying attention.

Its what binds you
to the universal mind.
And if only you knew
oh, what magic you’ll find.

You can touch it,
with a gentle thought.
At your command,
you can commit,
like the ancients taught.

To direct and control,
this treasure that’s given.
Then you bust-out on parole,
from the prison you’re livin’.

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