Fatigues

If I listen when human noise is quiet, I can hear what is real.  This parallel world of raindrops, wind, plants, highly organized terrestrial invertebrate, a contented infant … life existing with an industrious demand to push forth with no agenda.    

The natural world is without country or cause.  As the human develops within a culture that we did not select but were born into, our brain seems to close to the broader world and focus on what is offered us.  I wonder if I hid in a darkened cave for weeks with no outside communication, upon walking outside, would the propaganda gap close? After such an enclosure, would my intuition increase when observing the rhapsody play of light, greens and blues as if seeing them fresh … all natural phenomena, would I then know what is right?  Could that experience lift this veil woven with threads of red, white and blue? 

I sometimes feel like I live under a camouflage shroud beneath where an unhealthy ego can breed … insisting: ‘feed me, feed me’ so loudly that the echo magnifies to reverberate with vibrations of horror (bombs and guns and burning flesh) obscuring the legitimate resonance of fresh water, a breeze, a bud, a hive or the pleasant sound of a happy child.