Hauntingly aware of
Not knowing how to know yourself
Either from lack of friction, of
Manufactured and gifted heart aches,
Of choosing the other end of pain,
Of civic vice and virtue,
The feeling effect arrives at night.
As well as the early hours of the morning,
Where there are no distractions,
Where there are no excuses,
Where there is no one else but you.
There are no ravens or song birds or
Meditation playlists or
Coffee or tea or favorite podcasts or hellos;
Good mornings, good evenings.
Those things are for someone else,
Someone else created, cajoled;
A figure who forgot the faint whimper
Of a supposed’ dream,
Spurred by any number of stimuli,
And then replaced
With necessity, and sin.
The mirror, as well as the lens,
Has no reason to lie to you,
But the world does
Like people do to
Get something from you.
There’s never enough to go around.
We can always have more for tomorrow.
You must know that by now?
In the end - like all ends -
What is wanted is never needed.
Every want is a cloaked’ dagger
Of this new world's version of procrastination,
Keeping you as you see it today,
For their own purposes, their own plans,
Their own building blocks of an infrastructure
You never wanted to be a part of it anyway.
The river requires nothing
For you to swim in it
But a person needs everything
To let you in the door.
The forest, the desert, the sky, the
Ocean, all the same.
The breath that you breathe
Has only ever given it to you
And as the eyes and ears
Make believe the moon and the stars
From an inability to wonder and feel true awe,
The most satisfying thing can be realizing
There was never any carrot
(That was their trick)
And only ever the stick.
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END
