Your Poetry Dot Com - The Observer

==The Observer==

I am the Observer.
Aloft in my ivory tower, I gaze upon the universe.
As I watch the world burns and is reborn, like the eternal phoenix,
The endless cycle that I am witness to, but do not intervene in.
For I am the Observer.

The scenes I am forever surrounded by repeat themselves.
The same mistakes, the same realizations, followed by the same slow degradation.
Each generation forgets the lessons learned by those before them,
And casually throws away hard earned wisdom.
But what is wisdom? Is it something that can be taught?
Something that can be grasped from lectures, and analogies?
Where does this wisdom reside?

In this destruction there is also creation,
Change is constant and inevitable.
The most valuable lessons in life are those that can only be learned through experience.
Great stories are of those who did not shirk their obligations, but rose to meet them.
To conquer them, they became worthy of their burdens and led by example.
This must be how wisdom is obtained.

My eyes don’t see the truth. For these eyes are impartial and removed.
They only see the cause and effects in this dream, the dream that people call reality.
But my mind can see more than my five senses,
it attempts to understand others in order to understand itself.
It examines the motives behind these actions, the emotions that drive this mindless cycle.
It realizes that there is no absolute good or evil, everything is a matter of perspective.

As I record that which I see around me, I get a sense of unity.
Why is it so hard for all the rest to see?
Perhaps...its because I am the Observer.

Are we all not confined to the experiences we have within our minds?
No.
It is within our power to put ourselves in another’s shoes,
To truly see what they are going through.
In a hope that if we can understand, we can finally be understood.
For this is the mission of the dream. The dream we all call reality.

I now know that everyone is in essence an observer,
I am not alone.

Were does the consciousness reside?
What attaches us to this so called reality?
Are we all not in the third perspective in relation to this material world?
Our brains just interpret chemical signals we never actually feel anything.
There is no pain, no love, no sadness.
There is just the idea of these things,
that we liken to the dream.

So I come down from my tower and try to teach the rest.
To put aside the petty differences, and embrace the similarities.
To let them see this world as nothing but a mirror,
and if you look hard enough you can see yourself in everything.

We choose our state of mind, fulfill our own desires and destinies.
Everything we are is a result of what we have done.
Even when fate seems its cruelest, you still have freedom.
Freedom, mans last dying wish.
Freedom to choose how you will react.
Will you rise to the occasion, carry your load with nobility?
Or will you suckle on others sympathy, and discard all responsibility?

This is the choice that we are left.
It is up to each of us to decide for ourselves.
Will you be free? Free to see the unity?
Step out of yourself and look upon the world.

You are the Observer.
I am merely a Ghost in the Machine.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ Veritas78