Death of the conscious mind

I cannot pretend another day, another hour, another second.
There is no time to delay.
The glass that is filled with the sands is broken, and Is emptying into my hands. Persuasion of conscious thoughts in the hour of the broken clock.
Divides reality with delusions as time begins to stop.
Marked with the glance of the devilish eye.
Life around me motionless as I wonder by. Passing through the flesh made statues.
I have a sense of knowing their destinies, their pains, their desires, and the hate they possess for themselves for the ones they’ve hurt.
Detachment from my broken mind, sadness begins to unwind.
Peaceful thoughts begin to grow as I enter the Shepard’s throne.

R.K.H