How many times you heard
directly or indirectly, blindly or specifically
you were rejected
not enough. not exactly a fantasy
that everyone else wanted to see
and you started wondering
one minute a day
one hour per night
one day per week
one week per month
one moth per year
years and years per life…
was it life?
how many books you read
and seminars attended
to understand what exactly wrong with you
and why you cannot be
that exact way of beautiful, smart, seductive.
it didn’t work…not entirely.
something still missing.
and you yell. you expand, you go out
to the monks or into the bottle
lost in ancients scripts or amidst bodies
you don’t care to know. you don’t need to know
you search for yourself not for them or wisdom.
sometimes you return. sometimes you don’t.
ugly thoughts cackling
pecking your self-confidence
destroying your illusion of control
and you cannot look in the mirror
you hate those empty eyes
especially, when you realise
you are here. you never went anywhere
though you’ve been everywhere
if you’ve bothered to look-up
to meet the gaze – only once
you’d had a chance.
now, though, there’s no worth left
no strength to see
that there’s no magical cure
no game or mantra or spell
you were born as you are
you crippled yourself – yourself
and the only purpose
or merit of you
is to be.