Oblivious to reality
Each living in their private world,
into which no one can enter,
within the cave of their heart curled,
are driven by thoughts that canter
but when flag of love is unfurled,
they recognise soul’s true centre.
Look at souls living by instinct,
fuelled by both desire and fear,
their head and heart not with love inked,
thus blocking God from drawing near,
until they are by angels winked,
which happens when truth is held dear.
In this lucid dream, what’s real,
save love’s touch and bliss beat’s appeal?
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