Conversations with a Young Sid

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apparently susceptible
to straightforward persuasion
and wilfully slow to give
assurance of anything
our young man has retired
to a humble, removed existence

his cell door opens

in the command nucleus
a disloyal crew of fearful thoughts
and lustful desires flee
join the communal fray
without looking back

his cell door closes again

that is the last time
I let you out
he scold himself
rebellious brother
so soft and hedonistic

because of you
I took to the robes
and sit on this bare floor

lotus legs and saffron pleats
offer an ornate facsimile
of a cosmic chrysalis-chair
but it’s still damn uncomfortable

he shields his thoughts again
becomes ism blind
finds his calm and the only real reason why

his cell door opens once more

so programmed and scornful
oh, beloved but weak brother
when will you give it a rest
must you kill us both
when will you quiet

the door closes

unperturbed his work-rough hands
click wooden beads in search of purity
an accurate reading of soul threads
and a return of his innocence

and then …
a view of the true light source

now, I know nothing

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Conversations with a Young Sid is copyright Pryde Foltz

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very profound thoughts. I am awed by your pure poetry. Man sins again and again, when will he regain his pure form?

Thank you, Sayee:) Namaste:)

This is absolutely sublime, words and greatly chosen pixabay photos.

Thank you, Patrick:):):):)

You are most welcome, Pryde 😃

“Now I know nothing” – The pursuit knowledge and enlightenment always seems to lead to the revelation that there is so much more to learn and know than anything we think we already have learned and known.

Thank you, Denise:) Viewed from one way, yes, and then some come to understand that everything is relative and so only the self can be truly known. And much of the self is a result of human programming and not a choice. So she comes to ask ... what can she truly know. It is only universal love that can be trusted; not because it is the only way of being but because it delivers from a state of suffering.

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Conversations with a Young Sid, Day 98 of the 100 Days of Poetry @d-pend

Conversations with a Young Sid