Invisible balloons are floating by;
a seemingly endless number;
no explanation is given for why;
all knowledge they seemed to encumber.
No one can see them at all so it seems;
perhaps they are not really there;
floating consciousness; just like dreams;
even though we’re oft unaware.
They’re the entirety of all information;
the everything; of which all’s comprised;
the creator of each generation;
upon which the universe is devised.
Holding within; all we feel, hear, or see;
all conceivable forms of energy too;
the basics of all that has been or will be;
the essence of all that makes me and you.
If we can enter into these spheres of thought;
we’d have access to all that’s to be;
we’d know and be able to do what we ought;
such perfection would make us all free.
Invisible balloons continue to fly by;
stealthfully carrying knowledge within;
but we seldom access; not even try;
that true perfection might soon begin.
The balloons continue to maintain separation;
flying high aloft like the dove;
and have been waiting since the creation;
to explode in crescendos of love.