Most of the time we walk in a trance like state, Wondering what topics are worth a debate. Picking ever battle with great care,
As there is no one sitting in the opposition’s chair.
See the conflict is with ourselves, not another. Not a King, a Queen, or Deity to bother. Not a Mother, Father, a Sister, or Brother.
The subject is our dogma; so called system of belief. This is a battle within and it hasn’t been brief.
We’ve been told to have faith and just let it be,
To "live and let live" and forget about conspiracy. However, faith is part of a counterfeit; a manmade control. One set in place, in order to disconnect us from our soul.
It’s a guided missile of sorts,
There to keep us from remembering, we’re elements of Source. Connected on a higher plane, where there is no fiction.
Not like here and now trapped in our own afflictions.
We cannot see our power in the light of day.
It is only in our dreams of night, are we able to find the way. So we sleep often, as much as we can, Seeking stillness in dream realms where harmony stands.
Only there can we leap from door to door and open the portals, Positioned completely outside ourselves, much closer to the immortal.
Opening locations closed by our human mind,
Conditioned to believe in spaces, consisting of the fabric of time.
The funny thing is, time doesn’t exist, and in a bigger twist Neither does a God, unless We Are It.
By: Michaelson Williams
Deeper Meaning Poetry
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