As a creative spirit
Music is my gospel
It’s the sacred book I turn to
The minister that preaches to my soul
Encouraging my authentic self
My individuality
My church does not ask me to sit in a row
Does not ask me kneel at the appropriate time
Sweat is the sacrifice I leave on it’s alter
Imagination indoctrinated me into its obscured religion
Life has been a hard teacher on this path
Breath and awareness are attributes acquired during these rites of passage
Humbling myself before this cosmic temple
While the sacred fire within demands truth
Fear would have me crawl into a box
Conforming to the masses
“It’s easier”
Whispers from a Devils tongue
General consciousness are the straps keeping your wings from spreading
Seek out those little Buddhas
Those who can aid you journeying on your unique path
If your path is lined with walls
Befriend a jackhammer, or co create a ladder
If your path is the ocean that lays before you
Seek the harbors filled with others that might know of your route
Maybe you seek lands undiscovered
There might be a few Sinbads willing to accompany you on that voyage
This journeys are lined with perils of the subconscious mind
Aimed at shinning light at the hundreds of treasure chests you are dragging around
Each one with a unique lock
Your body placed the locks there
So that you may gain the gifts inside when you are ready to pick them
Wisdom often lays under the blanket of pain or discomfort
The wealth does far out weighs the grief
From a fellow traveler I know of these expeditions
I offer my awareness in witnessing yours
Sometimes one doesn’t have to be a sailor to be able to avoid a storm

(C) Jack Roman