The Wolf Made Me Jung

                       

Maybe I'm just too cynical for rhyme.

                       It's a cynical aeon anyway.

          So, I am not even special that way.

       Oh, look at that, a random rhyme. You see?

                            For that is what it is, you see. Do you?

         Randomness and whateverness. You see?

                          It doesn't matter anyway. Does it?

Yet, what about synchronicity though?

 

You seem to forget. You always forget.

Scrolling on Facebook as if you've never…

                             Did you really forget the lioness?

There is nothing to say then. Is there? Hmm.

 

Why do you never answer when I ask?

You still keep chanting old medieval

                          narratives. Narratives. That's all there is.

Write your own stories. Self-actualize.

 

Individuation. Always be kind.

                                         Do not forget that. Also, to yourself.

       But people know all that already. Hmm.

There is again nothing to say. Is there?

         Let us just be cynical together.

That might be fun. Or not. It’s up to us.

Still, something must happen for sure and now.

           To keep the narrative going. You know?

 

Nirvana is a trap. I'm warning you.

Paradise? Prison.          Stay far-far away!

Don't believe anyone. Especially

me (and me.) Be cautious of yourself too.

 

Everything is one suchness; endless fractal. 

There is no day and night. No up or down.

Pay attention. Speak the truth. Do you see?

Save the World. That's always the idea.

 

-All that means nothing of course. -Does it?

-Surely not. But it's still OK. -Isn’t it?

-I hope it is. -Nihilism and death?

-Here, have a mushroom. The wolf made me Jung.

 

       Conclusion? Keep the narrative flowing.

May the cosmic audience never switch.

(Note to self: try decreasing the ads?) (Shh!)

-Say something profound. -Keep talking.