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by dan ankers
My control room is far off
Ten million miles away
I perceive through intuitions
and my thoughts; chaotically rambling
This is the way
I speak to myself, when I’m not hearing
When my ego is no longer tuned in
or listening
to my soul,
which is glistening
A finely tuned instrument
of perfection
most distant
It demands a quiet mind
Crystalline forms
equal crystal clear thoughts
which channel through my vessel
from my instruments
far off
As when light beams
enter diamonds
their whole being is
illumined
Though, when I refuse to listen
my outer self can’t glisten;
covered with the dirt and grime
of this gritty world
I live in
Only through silence
may the light beams of my soul
travel
But first I must wipe off
my accumulated gravel
In fact it is only then,
and upon such a rarified time
that clarity speeds
laser-like through me
and I find
some peace of mind.
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