Awaken my heart

Thursday, 24 September 2015

What a catastrophe
it would be If 
were to discover 
that
marked the 
beginning
of 
me, 
myself,
and irrevocably
the end 
of, 
I. 

Yet, 
this 
self-congratulatory 
culture of being
one's own god - 
  where one's opinion 
  is magically transformed by 
  self-gratifying, self-glorifying 
  media 
  into fact 
  (forget about objective evidence), 
  making one the reality-star of 
  a self-written script, a self-directed gong show - 
this culture 
of naval-gazers 
seeking
justification 
in the stars 
for their own version 
of the 
latest 
truth,  
does nothing but 
revolve around 
one's self 
in dizzying
Oedipal 
preoccupation . . .

Limits us to this 
treacherous lie
that 
begat 
the world 
and that 
would inevitably 
bring its demise. 

Limits us to this 
man-made 
boundary 
on
imagination, 
dreams, 
bold excursions 
into possibility,
to go where no man has gone before. 

Limits us to this 
tailspin 
into arrogance,
no room for wisdom 
save one's own; 
no room for creativity 
save repackaged 
stale 
revelation 
long lost its luster. 

O that you would sing me a new song 
A song that enthralled and comforted 
this poet's heart
stretched much too thin 
like butter over too much bread
for life's burdens have broken 
what hope she held. 

O that you would paint me a new picture! 
Salve to my blind eyes 
drawing me to rest 
in everlasting 
arms so blest. 

O that my heart would quicken again
to know that the center of this existence 
is not mere man
meandering through existence  
self-made
self-determined
self-centered . . .

Remind me once more 
that this is all a dance, 
a romance 
between you and I, 
a partnership of love, 
not coerced control 
 - the lunatic's tale, 
but a love story 
born out of 
sacrifice 
purpose 
and desire 
to give 
of 
yourself 
completely 
to 
me

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