Spheres inside spheres

Slow moving orbits bring casual remorse
and desert sings refrains
I am in the midst of a epoch
wishing something can change
New moon brings a sudden delight
black dwan brings back pain
A new day someday will break
and I'll be free again
Slow moving orbits bring causal remorse
and desert sings refrains.

How difficult is it to be 'good'.The many layers of fake existance have utterly scarred the beautiful face of truth and reality.It's almost forgotten,but like a trace in the brain of certain memory,a certain very dear memory,it sometimes haunts.The overidentification with masks has now become a survival instinct.How depraved is this form of living and how easily people live and accept it.And how tormentous is it not to accept it,to always feel suffocated inside a mask,to lie and lie until lies are perfected.A perfect unreality.Who would want to trade unreality with reality?It looks monstrous and unreal,but it's as real as a dream to a sleeping man.Maybe oneday we all can shrug off this sleep and open our eyes.Wipe the fog off our eyes and can witness the grandeour of truth.And 'know' that there are absolutes.Like the surface of a 4 dimensional giant sphere,whose axis of rotation is the plane we live on,and which encloses our universe,ever expanding it's boundries,inflating on all 4 dimensions--this giant,absolute spehere.Moving slowly in orbits,sifting the sands of deserts,reflecting gold.