Everything familiar to this one isn’t now
Eyes look upon the world in weight with newly furrowed brow
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 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 culmination for us to shake and bend

This one picks up the pieces that fall down from the sky
Buries them underground without really knowing why
This one is still developing into something that can die
This one is still enveloping everything they try

Meditation sometimes feels like just an endless game
A game that a world of tides has 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
This 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 anyway

We share the same biology, but inside our psychology
Is 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-assured superiority, uncompromisingly
Maintaining stubborn impasses, unbudging ideology

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