These disagreements and squabbles —
Are they really your home
This restlessness, from which your sleep
And pride
Comprise your defense and lair?
From this cave,
Where you had been safe
Protected, insulated, and without risk,
Sheltered from exposure to the heavens,
This cave, where your soul hibernates,
Is this your final home?
Once in a lifetime
We're called to venture forth into the sun,
To let loose our pride -
It must eventually mature
To find its own hunting grounds -
And there, in the brightest blue of day
We shall build a huge pyre
And pile upon it every petty slight,
Every inexpensive insult which we'd hoarded like gold.
Once in a lifetime we have an opportunity to awaken.
Upon this pyre we too shall put
Our grievances towards others,
Hardly worth the paper we had written upon our hearts;
How special and superior they made us feel.
We shall place the angers and hurts
Which keep our wings tightly bound within our cave.
Last of all, almost at the top
We shall place the chief limitation
Which fiercely we clutch
In order to delay our arrival
Into our full grace and humanity.
We can blame the President for blindness -
But are not excused from opening or closing our own sight
Or taking a machete of drastic understanding
To cut through - or remain bound -
By our own luxurious lashes.
The pyre of surrender awaits us.
It's not some breezy Burning Man dollop of a party..
In truth, the hell which we face, and the blaze
Occurs in the smiling civilization of each & every newscast day.
How civilized, that as others burn or starve
We manage our portfolios.
At last we shall climb to the top,
Set our pile of woes, real and imagined
On fire ...
We are lit. Ah, the oft-quoted light!
We shall torch
In bright,
Hot and searing flame
Our pyre of pride
Which had made us feel
So special, so exclusive,
So shiny as a fool.
Soaring to the sky
We shall rise from the ashes,
To be truly reborn
Each day
Each breath
Each moment.
(Once in a lifetime?)