Psychology, a poem

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The nature of the world
the way it wanders
vexed in sin
is like a serpent
in its den

The cold and injured people
with their fantasies of power
strike back reacting
to every slight
a hundred thousand year war
of toppling dominos
called psychology

There is some myth that in ancient Atlantis
everything was in balance
but one man threw a stone of anger
into the pool of social grace
sending spiteful ripples upon ripples
and all of our world of war
is merely the echo of that attack

How can we rise above?
I suppose someone has to risk death
to reach out and sacrifice
a suicidal crucifixion of the heart
and all its pain
we spread our arms
expecting rain

the only true peace is immaterial
meaning that to have it
you have to let the matter go
Nirvana, the Hindu heavenly state
when translated into English
means “blowing out”
and like the solace of a sigh
when we drop our weapons
we find the highest high

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