Monthly Archives: April 2014

Sleep

O’ sacred sleep, maker of dreams,
in you my wonder lies;
to hold your court where chaos reigns
for penitence and sighs of sorrow’s past
and love reborn;
a cleaner state of mind
granted freely for a taste of death
and ashes left behind.

You reap the past as yet unknown
and hold it closer still
that I may view my future days
devoid of fate or will.
A narrow path before me now;
this ever closing wheel
that brings me back to where I live
between the false and real.

As I awaken, do I keep
to brighter worlds now seen
in this gift of nightly vision?
Or is all I see now just a dream;
a liar’s pale revision
of what was once
the one true world
now fading into remission?

Memories beg to me once more;
we live, we cry, we love.
We paint the world inside your mind
to create a heaven above.
Hell’s the thing that’s left behind
when you truly believe
in your heart and in your soul.
All I have shown you

how to find
is yours for the taking;
yours for the making;
can you live without a soul?
I believe you take that chance
every time you have that nightly dance.
But t’was a dream I hear you say
as you see the light of day;

leaving dream-speak behind
for that thing that you call real.
Who’s to say that memories past
or dreams were ever meant to last;
now that vision has come so clear.
Yes, who’s to say that you must live
inside this spell you’ve cast.
Close your eyes and dream your life;

For awakening is oh, so dear.

© 2014 Stephen Boothe

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The Addiction of Possession

I am coming to believe that possessions are a sublimely seductive and malicious trap. They reverse the presumed sense of ownership and entrap one with their inherent obligation.

As possessions have become the universally accepted signature of accomplishment, self esteem, and social worth, I struggle to stay connected to those things within myself that should, in reality, be the only impetus that drives me and stands as my true significance or attainment in this world.

Love, kindness, and acceptance for one’s fellow beings are the prime motivators of a compassionate world, not the possession of things as a tool to demean others thus artificially elevating one’s sense of self worth.

There is a degrading of the spirit that occurs when owned by one’s possessions; yes… owned by one’s possessions. Love turns to jealousy, greed, and envy as the connection and addiction to possessions increases. The ability to achieve one’s own self dignity or true potential can never fully be explored when possessions remain the primary source of essence.

© 2014 Stephen Boothe


Beauty

The beauty I seek lives in the past
poisoned by the taste of modern life.
A bitter stone lies upon my mind
destroying worlds before they are born.

As I walk this tortured path
toward an ever darkening plight,
no longer hearing the sweet, sweet rhyme
of you and all you had sworn,

I am consumed by death’s cruel laugh;
a once fairer man with no true sight or hunger
for all that I can no longer find.
I live in a world that lasts so long,

with hopes that I can no longer grasp
and battles that I’ve no will to fight.
A sleepless night of endless time
gives dreams now born from dust and bone.

Give me that which will not last
and I will live throughout the night
taking thoughts which do not bind
yet bring me to a place unknown

in a time never meant to have
that which I had once called right.
Would that all I now call mine
wash me up on Clotho’s coast

never to know what has passed
or what lies within my sight.
A never-ending thread of light,
delivering me another life,

and giving me leave to laugh and cry
for beauty spawned in solitude
and blinded eyes.
This is where I now belong.

This is Beauty.

© 2014 Stephen Boothe


All I See

Traveling along this path of bones,
I am reminded of all I could have been
by those who worship a cult of fame,
TV shows, and the latest trend.

Give me not your storied tales
or fleeting glimpse of secret wants,
for I swim much deeper than that;
seeking that which has no end.

I am bound by that which moves me
from within; a burning need for wisdom;
the kind that comes from down inside;
that place few dare to go … or live.

Would you seek eternal life
if it meant giving up your precious dream
of fame, fortune, and your neighbor’s envy?
or would you die alone;

the pet of those things you claim to despise.
Where do you live in this glorious tale?
Is this the place where you are king
of all you are and strive to be?

Or do you grovel under the boot
of synchronicity?

I think you dream of all I see
when I love and when I cry.

© 2014 Stephen Boothe


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