Stranger

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One sanctifies insignificance

listening and hearing not

warnings come often

in the moments the heart shuts

and no longer hears–

making a stranger out

of those who mean well

turning lies into morals

and ways of accommodating

what lacks the truth of soul.

One flake of the quintessential—

omniscience moves forward

and searches for the heart

finding it shut and pretending.

Shut on shut,

retreat on retreat like

a melody unsung,

a conversation left

unworthy, disengaged,

blasphemed

turning the moment

into a stranger.

Reflection: I am struggling with not falling into I’m not good enough, and my bed of flaws like a bed of nails that some yogis were supposed to have slept on. Please for a few moments can I lift the covers over my head, and just think about the cats–one kneading away resting on my chest with paws kneading my throat and the other standing guard by my side till I choose to come out.

 

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