Climbing high,
Breathing the Andean rich air,
My goal was history,
And a people forever lost.
What was I in search of,
I contemplate again my mood,
Would it be discovered here,
Amongst this empire of trees.
In my age,
Our current wedge of time, our history,
the past was as ever alive,
And visible, discerningly.
Spirits of Inca Warriors,
Met and guided me onwards,
Together we shared a place,
Whare time no longer ruled.
We suppose that this rule,
A man-made device,
Shows us a true reality,
But we become fooled.
In the the clouds where,
Only ancient gods reside,
I discovered a way,
To live happily, everyday.
Finding this obvious truth,
Though liberating, a curse,
Where could I go now,
To make sense of it all ?
Oxygen rich, rain soaked forests,
Told me their story,
And with it came fear,
That our 'lawmakers' deceive.
I strove on forward,
once more determined, open,
To accept all truth,
The substance of our reality.
And found excuses and explanations,
Pompous liturgy,
When strangely obvious were,
The facts before me laid.
To nature and all life,
There is but one truth.
Continuation, an evolution,
By creation forever continuous.
The details are but a series,
Of relative connections,
For everything is perfect,
Just the way it is now!.
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