You author reality with metaphors
and verb to make a living
while the ghost writers circle
like carrion birds, waiting to rip
your soul from your flesh.
You, a palimpsest, have shed
covers, switched genres, crossed out
every adjective you used to be;
and I, your avid reader, await
your next page, enthralled
and close to tears, overlooking
You pull yourself in, deliberately,
abruptly peaceful in your fate: being
a minuscule point of space, a short line through time.
You call it progress but I resist,
caressing the dials of my perceptions
to watch you bloom
in all directions, infinitely, like a fractal-soul,
which is, after all, just a point, a line,
multiplied forever. Or
in other words, your full potential.
How to make magic: evoke
stunning beauty in three words or less;
imagine like a goddess
building a brand new world; run
without moving; cry
at pretty sorrows; and laugh
at endings, for you keep
no faith in absolutes.
The gentle ones get called
the worst of things
(of course they take it lightly),
and they know victory doesn’t lie
in how loud you can be, how proud
or how abrasive, how brutal.
Authenticity shouldn’t be an excuse
to inflict one’s insecurities
on the unsuspecting. No, the wise are still raw
when speaking in varied dulcet tones,
knowing how to reach people at their level,
how to win an argument without arguing
at all. Real strength goes undetected
most of the time, but humbleness is
underrated besides. Why take oneself
so seriously, when everything
is infinitely meaningful
and infinitely meaningless at once?
Gentleness is no mere trojan file,
but wild freedom to live
thoughtfully, and keep youthful, longer,
watching more than talking.
When did authenticity come to mean bravado
and pride in your tragic flaws?
Othello’s sorry, but most asses aren’t,
as an ass continues to be an ass —
glorifying assery, throwing ass parades.
I don’t have to be loud
to be heard. People will lean in
to hear a whisper, and remember it.
Maybe even treasure it.
Once the infinite fell
at the speed of time, colliding
with the immoveableness of place,
into every instance