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.