By Xola Stemele
Have you ever kneeled
Before a mirror?
Eyes closed. Yet reflecting,
At a structure supposed to be
self, unsuspecting. That
denial in a dream can mean
death? So depressing, seeing
Yourself, simulating your own shadow’s casket well.
But, lost are the translations that used to scream help.
Sinking in a place where the shallow can’t dwell. But, until when? Well.
Til’ the ones we buy from can’t sell
Til’ the sky we cry from can’t Help
Til’ prayers can penetrate through… Chemtrails, til’ the plant’s pale, conscious of, environmental yard sales, til’ the Sun says “Enough!”. The Light that guides You can’t fail.
And when I wake up, the conditions to my value are still there, the voids stare clear, Fear, imbalance,
To show me all the things I wish was, but aren’t near.
Then I real eyes,
The flesh’s obsession to see itself becomes the true reason why, the vain can still imply, that vanity will synonymize sanity – In time,
taught to love only, the visible parts of me, praise the tangible, the New Divine. Really, An old divide.