[UnbornBuddha]

The dream of reality and the reality of dreams

Listening helplessly to my shadow’s message,
A frightening rendition from my adolescence.
Feeding me back every image my heart ingested,
The past’s reflection; that I could look back at and grasp the lessons.
Paralyzed, because when he comes I can’t ask him questions,
I go mad witnessing my own confession like I’m part detective
Unraveling the mystery trapped within my other half-- I’m guessing.
He tells me of the various Boogieman found underneath my mattress/ deathbed.
I see serene black pestilence juxtaposing against a happy setting.
Dreaming is the everlasting expression of the path I’m destined for.
Narcoleptic snore turns my waking life into something I’ve overslept before
Abandoning the realm of form as I enter my other corpse. Self-absorbed.
Traveling into my inner core, hell adorned, just like heaven’s floor.
It is here my shadow whispers to me death in code;
As he reveals it, he entrenches a sword into what I’ve dreamt is my soul.
I felt so cold after he pulled it out and carried me to an angelic morgue.
I awoke in a cold sweat; I’m glad I did for I would have died a second more
Swerving, I slam on the brakes before another being's hemorrhaging begins.
I myself get injured, but nothing more than an appendage being stitched.

But, just as the doctor threads the needle in—I see the menacing evil grin.
I’ve fallen again, only this time, entering into the memories of events
I would rather remain energy unmanifested, for the rest of eternity I have left;
The illusion from whence everything heads toward, so as to internally rest.
As I descend perversity steps, he follows me in, observing my restlessness
I am proof that only God is eternally death. I say this searching the endlessness;
The abyss of my own reality I formed by purging my sentience, murdering benevolence.
It is here in this nightmare I shall face the reason for my condition.
My shadow appears, accusing me of being the demon of my cognition. Not he.
I tell him “I’m not sleeping due to volition”. Come see.
We merge into one and let the scenes before us numb me;
Until I become submerged in the deepest of REM sleep.
That’s when the hungry wolf transcends sheep,
Condemned fiend surpassing the position held by the gentry.
Looking at the inner eye of God, a feat all Zen seeks to not seek.
But, I don’t see divinity;
Instead, I see the beast, the colossus leviathan that is a piece of me,
The dream within a dream—a noxious evil yin disease.
Narcoleptic snore turns my waking life into something I’ve overslept before
Abandoning the realm of form as I surrender my other corpse. Self-absorbed.
Tales of lore, as the doctor tries to shake me awake.
But, it’s futile for I’ve already made my way into the place of my true faith.
I was afraid for so long,
But the shadowy apparition of mine was my true face.
My narcolepsy was contracted by having to live in this world that half-exists,
Akin to a longing of relief from the pain of a phantom limb
Following my shadow’s whim, I abandoned it.
So I could fathom amid a dream world
That speaks through archetypal design without worldly languages.
After all, words are sanctioned sins that contaminate the Imagination.
Yet, I slowly perish because this world is animated by the operation
Of the other one. And since I’m no longer there I start to wander off.
Fragmentary fractals experienced crystallizing into another’s thoughts.
Fading away, I’m okay with going further on;
Subsisting in the subtle echelons of existence is all too bothersome.