Have we lost ourselves?

So what is it, really, that we’re doing?

The question is asked

Allowed to hang in the air between you and me

Between us

As we stare blankly

Because obviously something is lacking

It is evident, even without irrefutable backing

That the curtain is drawn and the lights are turned off

And the voices are shushed

And all that was, is and will be said

Has been penned, scratched, blotted, backspaced

Double underlined

Placed in parenthesis

Punctuated

Spell-checked

Polished in every area

In order to hide a not so subtle case of dyslexia

Suffered by a mass of masses;

Propagated by a mass of asses.

I ask again,

What is it, really, that we’re doing?

Binding ourselves because we’re sadists in love with slavery

Layers and layers of chains

Whose links bear name

Names that must be named

For in the naming lies the power

Whose seat is knowledge

Liken unto a plant which grows and flower at the fullness

Do not think me waylaid, or, off set path digress

Set to purpose I progress

To the naming of demonic links that we ourselves have allowed

Smugness

Greed

Envy

Hatred

Lies

Condescension

And still we bind ourselves

Jealousy

Laziness

Spite

Pride

All corruption and corruption all

What are we doing with ourselves?

Are we such that we are content with incompleteness

With the broken and diseased

Is this the new definition and ideal of progression?

Is half the new complete?

Is nothing the new all?

Is empty the new full?

Is broken the new whole?

Is fallen the new risen?

To what purpose do we trod?

We were not designed to be reigned in

To share hearth and home with mediocrity

We were created within a blessing

And by such we should live

Striving to be forever greater than now

To tap into and harness that god-element within and without

Till it echoes throughout the cosmos

Washing on the shores of stars beyond distant

Resonating in harmonics as to the level of even the sub-atomic

It’s to that end that we do not wait

That we are able as manifestations of the greater

Being able to create

Rather than destroy

To be humble instead of allowing

You, me, us, we to crumble

Oh sistren!

I can hear you

Understand please that I can hear you bredren

The cry that sleeps between each word

Each line

Each verse

Each rhyme

Tell us

Tell me

Tell her

Tell him

About the lost art of forgiveness and mercy

Of patience

Of Perseverance

Of love and appreciation

Of open arms

Of soft words and gentle touch

Of consideration

Of caring and sharing

Of selflessness

Of consideration

Of tenderness

Of being humble

Of gratitude

No we have not lost ourselves

Asleep yes

Distracted yes

Lift your head up

LIFT IT UP MAN

And take back your life…,

My life…

Our lives…

Glen Toussaint 2012©