Poetically Lucid - Wrote a poem for my colleague last night

[EddieEddie1995]

The more consciousness you have the more connected you are with others. 

We started texting for the first time on our private chat at work, just before he sent me a message, I knew it was coming. 

Synchronicities are no longer magical because at some point there is no distinction between normal and abnormal.  

Anyways, I knew that he is ready to take the next step - as he was sharing how excited he is about lucid dreaming. 

He was telling me about hand and mirror technics to get Lucid in a dream. 

He is also a musician, so that day I wrote him a poem. Well, it was not Eddie that wrote it, that's for sure

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His name is Pavle.

 

Sender Unknown:

 

Hello Pavle, my dear friend, look closely at your hands again.

Are you sure for what you see,  are there hands or just Me?

 

Lucid is what this poem needs.

How to Wake up, when the world feels real?

 Look Pavle, my dear friend, your hands are mirror to your True face. 

Your fingers' nature is to work as One, but there is a finger you don't like.

 

Listen Pinky, stupid fool,

You get to do, what I tell you to!

But daddy, this is not fair!

One more word and I will chop your head!

 

Hello Pavle, my dear friend,

The small finger has lost its way.

Let it play its own song,

 Why fear, when you have 9 more? 

 

Dear Pavle, my old friend,

The finger goes crazy because it's afraid.

Please Love it for what it Is,

And as you know, Love is what Sync brings.

 

Listen Pavle for the silent drums inside,

It is always on you what you get to rime.

 

Hello there my old friend,

Are we Lucid or do we sleep again?

 

This is where this poem appears to end,

Pinky presses Enter,

And The Message is Sent.

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The poem writes itself, but who then the pen holds?

There is no such thing as edDie, when Wisdom Flows.