Everything familiar to this one isn't now
Eyes look upon the world in weight with newly furrowed brows
Their gaze will rest upon the hands as it is wondered, still
If there could even be a plan
If gods obtain their fill

What if we could really see it
All that could be us
The extent of all this tapestry
And willpower and dust
What if this weave is one that truly doesn't end?
No final culminating end for us to shake and bend?

This one picks up pieces that fall down from the sky
Buries in the ground without really knowing why
This one's developing into something that can die
This one's enveloping everything that they try

Meditation sometimes feels like just an endless game
A game that a world of rhythms forced this one to play
A game designed to still the mind and see It All the same
And fail to integrate that sight as differences remain

So we are it, and it is we, and all of it is said
It would be distressing less if we could all break bread
But what we don't give up will end up speaking in our stead
When we didn't like the answers given to the dead

We share the same biology, but inside our psychology
An insane methodology: dehumanize the other
Reflexively, we hold distinction above similarity
Drawing lines that harden minds against a higher clarity

Disparity
Meta-cultural gulfs of false polarity
Delusions that a common understanding is a fantasy
Self-superiority, uncompromisingly, it seems
Maintaining stubborn impasses, unbudging ideologies

Falling into rabbit holes, identities of pride
Every person is a schizophrenic universe inside