There is something within you
that no amount of striving will summon forth
every ounce of your disciplined strength
even tighter seals the door to the universe you do not see within
A force that indwells and surrounds you
no less a part of you than you of it
and if you just accept your continuity with all
what wondrous beauty might you unleash
but dear, I shed a tear
when I see your mistaken resolve
so determined to be separate
a self-forged cage of loneliness
you wonder why none speak your name
deaf to the pleas that you release the mask
blocking all voices and faces
How long will you live in terror of love?
The outcasts of society, their presence alone screams, “I am here!” They are a tear in the fabric of the curtain that is the willful ignorance of the affluent or even comfortable, letting in the sounds and smells of the outside world, the reality we would rather ignore.
Rationalize how you will, say their lot is deserved or earned, but you cannot erase their haunted eyes, windows of desperation, from your mind as you lie sleepless in your soft bed. Deep down, you know that your power is a farce, your game of life is illusory. You know that, in the absence of the arbitrary values assigned to each move and each rule, apart from your role as a pawn on the board, they are more worthy than you.