A Lonely Truth

In the pause of the true witching hour
I see them at the gate
Smiling faces with a mechanical depth
Mimicking comfort for my benefit while shedding envy for my position
Hungry ghosts wanting my warmth but needing my connection

I approach in compulsion
And in their eyes a glimpse of the familiar
The One frequency ignites the crystal waters of my birth
And the ghosts receive my previous day with the wonder of a newborn child
Easing their countenance

But this is always the case
And we all desire another taste
For they are me and I am all
In that instant our worlds empty
And Karma becomes Manna through the veil of Samsara
No segment is wasted
No light loses time

I reach for the cord of breath
And resume my task as the silent familiars dissolve
Retreating with my experience of the day
As I adjust to the fractal formula once more
To carry on with the deception of the self