New World (Part 2) – A Poetry Journal

2-6-22 – 10:18 a.m.

Books burn in the field, pages, words down to ashes. Checked the shelf for all those naughty books; we had quite a few. Burning, church zealots, screaming. Medieval mindset, battle of good vs. evil. So much duality. Must integrate the light and shadow into a cohesive whole. The yin, yang.

Bitterly cold, but I like it. Music saves lives. So do books. Everything is an image, and images are what we connect to. My spiritual life is much different than it used to be. I don’t put in as much effort. Yet, I feel more connected. It is possible to be too concerned with such things. It makes one neurotic.

I had a dream about my old job. I was asked to remove all my jewelry before entering the building. This is funny because I never wear jewelry. Deciphering what dreams mean is interesting. They are symbols. I’m unsure what this symbolizes. I am primarily a minimalist, but my work life is always tied to business writing. It pays the bills, and it funds my leisure time.

For that, I am grateful. I have no idea what it’s like to be an atheist. I respect them, but I’m not built like that. I wish I took better care of my health. I should do this; I should do that. Born in the blood, thoughts germinate in the attic. Creature features, the horror genre explains existence. What will the world be like in 2030? I shudder to think of it. Will I be alive? Only God knows.

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