No Clear Way To Describe It
To bare feelings genuine
free of mystery
removes all art and life.
Is this so?
Perhaps,
yet perhaps not,
perhaps mystery is an illusion
produced by illusion itself.
Perhaps,
perhaps these feelings are self provoked.
Unfortunate, there are no clearer words,
no more explanatory ways,
only the mystery of my stories
and each thought is explained,
in the mystery itself.
The answers can come from
any convoluted plan,
any selfish push.
Forgive us this day
our daily bread.
My life is full of progress
and I still have more to do.
I was a terrible buddhist.
And a sinful christian,
a lazy taoist,
and a confused atheist.
This is not my life story,
but it is true.
These things were
and still are true,
though shrouded in the tedium of mystery,
it is still true
it is still there
it is still real.
James J Jackson 