To love is to guarantee loss:
such is life.
Who has a grip stronger
than the pull of time?
But know this:
pain is guaranteed.
for one can choose
the pain of heartbreak
or the decay of regret
it’s all the same to me.
so, know this:
to live is to hurt.
there is no way around this.
but you choose:
will you take a risk
and experience the joys
that make it worth it?
to have the treasures
that you will pay in full for?
…
riddle me this:
in a world inundated with fairy tale
why do we still live so?
i’ve been steeped, saturated,
awash in the ideal,
Disney entraining my subconscious
to take the journey of the hero
long before i could speak.
and in this, i know i’m not alone.
so, then,
tell me:
why do we still live so?
for as long as i can remember,
i’ve been told
to live each day as if it is my last
that true love wins in the end
to up and slay the dragon
that i only have fear to fear
but here i am:
and here we all are
being granted,
day after day,
pure gold —
the pure gold of pure possibility —
every day, precious metals on silver platters —
yet here we are
fearfully declining.
so intent on being our own captors
an inner political system
all checks, no balances
constantly
constantly
constantly checking ourselves
vetoing the desires of the heart
the urges of the soul
so many reasons why not —
but don’t we know better?
how many times must we be told?
what were all of those stories for?
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 