AUTOPILOT

I haven’t eaten, haven’t slept.

I have fallen, haven’t wept.

I’ve never asked to be upset.

But now I know what I had kept.

This thug inside me that has the show,

And tells the story of ego.

The wonderous traveller of the crow,

I’ve left behind all of my clothes.

Now I’m naked in the sun,

And even now, I think I’ve won.

No one tells me where I’m from.

I now become a homeless bum.

But as I forage in the trash,

I look no longer for the cash.

In a burger bun I find,

The residue of God’s design.

So picturesquely in a bun,

I’ll follow spirit and be done.

God is my filling - if I dare.

To let me in - this no-man’s glare.

Into darkness - in through light.

Allowing time to take a bite.

And like a curse of bloated bowls.

I fart amidst the midnight owls.

No secret does that night bird bring.

Illusion tangles everything.

But then at noon, I am with God.

And everything seems fucking odd.

I’ve talked about it with a frog.

But all I know is I’m too hard.

Soften up like ice in sun.

And let the water flow on some…

Ancient rock - that drips - with ease.

Turning stone into a breeze.

The times they turn,

The All has changed.

And in these days,

I find my grave.

Knowing I was very brave,

To be your horse,

Your knighthood’s stage.

And now the battle has begun.

I’ve realized where I’ve come from.

Back home to God is where I roam.

Only with love, am I at One.

So, call me God, or Buddha, Krishna, Christ…

It’s all an intercosmic-heist!

“Auch wenn du in die Hose scheisst”

Bringing it all back to life!

It’s time to go ,

It’s time to find,

Myself amidst the shaking grind.

Of what it truly means to find:

That “Inner artist- Your Design”