by Jaimal Lovitt

They say some people are crazy
But they don't really know
Just what do you think would happen
If you let your mind go
Or would you rather not think about it
Hiding from yourself
Making sure you stay away from
The hidden realm
You see the tools you have searched for
Have been there all the time
The only true knowledge
Lies directly in your mind
It's like once a baby's born
That baby thinks a lot
But once the teaching starts
That baby's thinking stops
It cuts off the mind
That it once could have had
And the irony of it all
Is that baby grows up mad
Mad from what I say
As my pulse begins to rise
They all stopped and stared at me
With dark and gloomy eyes
Why you're all mad, you're all mad, I cried
For piercing through my iron flesh
And falling without a floor
I've passed through the entrance
That some might call the door
It was there, only there
That I truly saw my soul
Filled with the light of a candle
Short and burning slow
The wick was my life
And how far I had to go
But there I felt something more
Something different
A force I cannot explain with words
Just non-existent
And now I know
As I waken from my golden dream of slumber
And look at the world through my eyes and wonder
That it all isn't all that bad after all
That we all have a home
And that we all a soul
God gave us this gift of life for free
And in return he wants a bit of you and me
So be kind and remember
This one and dreary thought
That we all play a simple part
In the Lord's giant heart
The Light
by Jaimal Lovitt

I once saw the light, it was not like anything you could imagine, for it was like a sound that existed only in the silence of pitch blank. It is the sound of life searching for a place to lay and rest, almost as if it was everybody's existing energy taken and mixed together to form a white ball of Light that rings the sound of life as loud as it can, but so faint that the unaware don't hear it and the aware only think they do.

The light is a pattern that some call life. The ups and downs, the happy the sad, the good the bad, the only thing that is real and not quite in our reach, the people who talk and then loose their speech. The quiet of the afternoon, the thought that the end is soon. The calling of the world to shout out and scream, "I'm alive, can't you see, so give me the power to hear the great sound for I've heard it once it won't let me down."

I shall see the Light as white as it may be, but when I die it shall always be with me. For when it's all over old and turned gray, my Light will be there forever to stay because it is neverending, eternal and sharp, and it will always be with me even in the everlasting dark.