We all live a life
inside the life we live.
We are symbols, icons,
mysteries,
and an unwitting answers
to others,
though their fate
similar to ours.
We live into
a consensual cohesion
by streamlining our storylines.
We attend, appropriate,
acknowledge,
and search to identify.
We are displaced by our efforts.
We then question doing’s sake.
We accept the limitations
of rewards.
We implore the politics
of busyness to succeed.
We claim to have concepts
that satisfy by deed.
We pursue predictable comforts
into unconsciousness.
We seek understanding
as if it was a provider.
No matter how much we fill
there is noticeably
an emptiness for more.
We settle for commitment,
efforts and results.
We abide, decide, act upon,
and concern
as benchmarks of living.
All of this
we do willingly
but still . . .
there is a life,
a somewhat unrevealed life,
a quite fragile existence
of a life,
inside the life we live.
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