Sonnet No. 141

[December 31^st, 2013 – 8:09 am]

Like a curtain of scintillating sheath,

The ones and zeros of reality

Matrix themselves flatly in our belief,

Then settle in forms of finality.

Hindus conceive of all experience

As being set down upon the pages

Of Akashic knowledge that we may reference,

If our hearts are pure enough for the ages.

And so in living code I have writ you

Large in the great book with its sacred seal,

Whose transparent veil can only be seen through

With the holy eyes of Love that know what's real.