the haunt of living

 

I was shamed by the awareness 

of tall sensory parts, 

that make shapes out of everything,

that plead for a recognition

to come out of me,

as if there are breaths of safety, 

from the lungs of knowing,

for me to see,

that you are seen.

it feels so one-sided.

it's my fault for being this way.

I assume a residence of self

and attend with 

what awareness has to offer.

it is a militia of occupancy,

standing tall or so it seems,

as if I am in review 

of this assembly in passing,

as a false honoring,

to make me believe in relevance,

to make me think, 

as if the grandeur of meaning 

is approaching.

I am timelines in dismay.

seeing order that I have self-imposed.

all of secrets withholding, 

but ever present to pose.

I surrendered to this torture, 

as sensibility, 

and logic stole my true self.

I was taught to measure 

by my own terms,

as if inheriting my kingdom of isolation,

as my regal means.

I would come to speak the knowing

and all of nature around me

would blink and nod 

and bow heads in tongueless ways.

I made sound, my commands,

my army of rules set forth.

as if I was a celebrity species

and the world of audience in response.

I come to pretend 

all of this, as my homeland.

but in my heart,

I am aware of my foreignness. 

my passport is 

my carriage of indifference. 

eventually I will go up in smoke

or surrender my mass 

to earthbound circumstance.

but for now,

I am a prisoner-king.

I am a deaf-mute, 

fully aware in my sidedness.

I pretend to be 

as guardians of the keep-safe,

but I gave up my rights,

when I entered the physical plane.

now I just wander exposed,

claim a dignity made into stature,

embarrassed to be cluelessly uninformed.

nature blesses me with an assigned trust.

I carry on, 

wishing I was that wisdom.

all I can come to do

is to give back

until I am fully gone . . .