We made up time to confuse ourselves

A minute is
as the
seconds pour past
like an afternoon storm.
As I sit in
this hidden garden
of my birth and
reflect on mirrors of
the past, my thoughts
lead me by my hand

to the most elegant and seductive
of reflecting
pools, the future.

For there reality is
a dream.
There dragons, pixies and nymphs
can run free again,
naked under the milky
way of imagination.

There angels sit triumphantly in
their court in
heaven, and peace stretches out over
our minds like a nap
in a swaying
hammock on the edge of
the ocean of our true potential.

The persistence of
time indeed heals all
of the soul.
Heaven is all around us in
a seconds passing.
Buddha at the Mountaintop
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