What are we
'neath the self-portraits we make of ourselves?
Tell me.
Who
do we become
do we become
when all that we consider to be us or ours
d i s i n t e g r a t e s
into just plain
us?
us?
Just you.
Just me.
A question.
More questions.
More questions.
Questions to come.
No use trying to be subtle.
No use trying to be complex.
Life gives.
Life takes away.
Simple as that.
And the pain?
The pain becomes the cure.
The pain becomes the cure.
The cure to our naivety,
to our senseless pretending,
to our self-destructive pride.
It humbles us
into the beings we a r e.
And when we can finally look at ourselves
and s e e
into the beings we a r e.
And when we can finally look at ourselves
and s e e
only then can we fully accept
the wisdom of our very
existence.
and even our
darkness.
the wisdom of our very
existence.
Incomprehensibly
beautiful,
with all our imperfections;
wounds,
scars,
bruises,
beautiful,
with all our imperfections;
wounds,
scars,
bruises,
and even our
darkness.
Why else will we yearn for the light
if we have not been
in
d a r k n e s s ?
in
d a r k n e s s ?
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