shed the ego
like a musty torn coat
destined for basements.
oh, the cellar dwellings of self
oh, but i've reached the next floor
i have ascended the stairs
there is sun up here
there is a moon
and satellites and planets and stars!
billions of 'em!
who put them there
and how do i
get me some?
zen says,
just one more flight
'til i can stuff 'em in my pockets
to fire up this pen,
this typing machine
igniting only white hot truths
from now on.
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