Only the illusion greets you as you stand in an empty garden

filled with roses that have no fragrance and

birds that have no voice.

But you feel awake, like a clever little boy on Christmas morning

hoping to catch Santa in the act.

But even the chimney is built on a foundation of emptiness

that tugs at the corner of your soul, trying to show you

there is nothing here to satisfy the

hunger in your belly.

The food you need doesn’t grow in false gardens

planted with blurred ideas of right and wrong

because the garden you see does not exist

and that keeps you empty.

There are so many crows sitting on dead branches

waiting to eat what you think you want,

ready to devour all your attachments

if you let them.

First you must know they lie to you to consume

all your attention, they tell you stories that keep them

awakened in you because if you let the crows eat —

everything that is you


Surprisingly it is the death of you

that suddenly wakes you up

and silences your fear.

It is the first real breath you have ever taken.


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