The Dawning of Tomorrow

Far away, the future, my intention, my being in another place, temporarily. Beckoning, I gaze into the eyes of wonder. Dreaming I gaze into the eyes of unreality. And then there is the distance between the dream and unreality, and the distance between the dream and reality. And the mind, the thinking mind, is short on truth, and it stills in this awareness. And in the world of spirit, the feeling rises, after a world of living in a world of pretend affection. And the attraction lives, is still wanting to embrace me in its apparent lie. And in an ancient time of life, a face reemerges, clearly before the eyes of my memory. Truth, is on its own, in its purity, in itself, in its perfection. And I look into the eyes of her heart, and all I can see is delusion. Love is nowhere to be seen, and inside of me, springs unease, and springs antipathy. And I have seen the words and the feeling of the words that her apparent soul spoke to me, and I'm stirred somehow to reject any kind of anger. And the music is silent, has changed its course, and is searching for itself, quietly yet again. Inside of life, the eyes are firing, and everything is yesterday, and tomorrow, must be managed, entered into. And I wonder why she was there at that particular time, and why I was also. And I look away from yesterday to the dawning of tomorrow.