Knocking on Heaven’s door

What do we fear, is it just fear itself;
that dark little Demon hid high on a shelf?
Minds all cluttered with all kinds of stuff.
Minds so cluttered there’s never enough
room to see clearly that dark little shape
is simply our Spirits as they try to escape
the torment we find in each living breath,
the torment of life that’s far worse than death,
the torment of keeping all of that stuff,
the torment of living with ‘never enough’.
The joy to be found in an emptier mind,
the joy to be found in “To thy self be kind”,
the joy to be found in simplicity’s peace,
the joy to be found when life’s bullshits cease,
but how do we be rid of that Demon on high?
Can we simply leave it -in our hearts say “Goodbye”
or must we extract it with ritual care
and in the process lay ourselves bare?
One day we’ll know this answer and more
but then will we be knocking on Heaven’s door?

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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