Mingling on the Middle Path

Filling pages, 

meditating sages, 

four stages, 

everything ages, 

nothing called wages!

Is it really opium

What can be done, bare minimum

If one's Life is lacking momentum

Is the solution leaving this stadium

And joining the so-called Universal kingdom

Or is it all mere fanaticism

So many voices, it's deafening!

Everyone trying to be leading

Background noises I'm not understanding

It's your area, keep elaborating

But that's one opinion you're insinuating.

Repetitive rigorous rigid remains

Sacrosanct seamless sentiment synthesis

Several colours but it's the same sketch

Saying other ones are pale is a stretch

Look closely for meaning around the hedge

And tie up these so-called loose edge

Drawing lines and boundaries for the minimal

You're the nadir and I am the pinnacle 

You're alien and I am aboriginal

The condition is to mingle with us or become invisible

We have the numbers game you're vincible

Soon you'll become fictional and then apparitional

Jumbling Belief,

Mumbling chief,

Attaining relief,

Causing disbelief!

Taking the middle path instead of choosing a road

Followed the river from its origins to where it flowed

Sat there in peace with my eyes closed

Waited there like a sunflower till the sun glowed

Love for all is the message

Keep mingling with people in this life's cottage 

So your exit from here becomes an easy passage

Fire, mud, and Box in the end we have the same linkage.