All highs have no real shelf life
and all the lows are constantly re-dusted
at eye level almost every day.
In that light, if blackness was a color,
I would have a full spectrum of crayons
in various shades of black.
If bluntness was an eagle scout merit badge
then I have taken
the high road to achievement.
If my soul could have a shell of karma
then it would be difficult
for me to leave that home.
I have a passion for dismissal
in self-deprecating ways.
I seek the harshest representation
of internally administered self-reprimand.
I am both captured and enamored
from within these internal landmarks
of grounding discord
that I can assuredly survive.
I somehow trust
in their reality honesty within me
to always declare me as my darkest hour.
If times like these were like tides,
then surely there are times
I am reduced to gasping simply for air
and this ocean around me as buoyancy
is mercy granted
and I am humbled into the oneness
within this egoless flow.
I so easily can declare
my baseline cynic’s self-view
but I cannot defend nor condone
any sense of my spirit on the rise.
If I am possessed,
it has to be in an empty way.
I love for the light in all beings to display.
It is for me to honor as virtue
what light comes to me in this way.
Yet I prefer a smoldering of darkened lessons
that shadow me as I go.
I am critical
of the low of embodied conscious presence
and yet moved by the high
of disappointment’s reward.
I have deadpan faith and a denial
as my comfortable greeting style.
I shun merit as an advancing means.
No effort of my innocence can be valued
because I have no innocence untarnished
by emotion’s indulgence as a suffering style.
It is only from the hearts and minds
of those I serve
that evolution will sneak up
and set me free . . .