Love is the essence of pure thought.
There is nowhere that this thought is not.
What is it that you think you see
When you gaze upon the flesh of me?
Let me use this poet's tongue
To show that you live among
An exoskeletal, limited view;
A shelter for your own milieu.
And thus it states, "Strive, gather,
Obtain or rather,
Life will of the weak consume
And make of you a withered tomb!"
But here I stand
With truth in hand:
Remember?
Love is the essence of pure thought.
There is nowhere that this thought is not.
Quietly gaze on that within,
Beyond the stars, beyond your skin.
For there resides an endless light
To guide you through the fading night.
And carved unto empyrean ink:
"All we are is all we think."
You are not here; you are not there;
You are, in fact, quite everywhere.
Limits are only of the mind,
Belief in them has kept you blind,
So the next of time
You hear the chime
That casts the sleep deeper,
Be the brave leaper!
And land beneath the naked sun.
There is no end to what is one.
For here I stand
With truth in hand:
Remember?
Love is the essence of pure thought.
There is nowhere that this thought is not.
