Tag: materialism

A Diamond

When thoughts of rocks,

come to play,

the mind is alluring,

easily left to sway

the doubts,

the indecisions,

the valued circumstance,

of shared precisions.

 

The cut of a diamond,

meant to draw blood,

perhaps never seen,

never heard,

yet known

by the fractured elements

of delight in an eye,

the beholder,

the judgment,

the reality of one,

becomes the circumstance

of another.

 

We stood inside a mini-mall

watched the world evolve,

we laughed

qualified are sanity

that lasts.

We knew our world

didn’t need the blood of a diamond,

for it is a world far beyond

the material norm.

 

Yet today, sitting in offices,

there seems aplenty,

of ignorance and entitlement.

 

The crush of a diamond,

the cut of a purity in glass,

the reality in the mirror,

won’t ever extinguish the glare.

Our Pedestal

If whenever we reach out to one another

really ask to be noticed,

without using words,

just the simple expression of our eyes,

cannot tears alone provide the answer,

will we only allow ourselves to feel compassion

at the heels of natural pain, long after the actions

of hurtful angst have knocked us off our feet.

Our pedestal

We live by sight,

in glamour, prestige, adorned in history,

that broach she wore just the other night,

could represent a Victorian amulet seen only by

the rarest eyes.

Those looks, those moments of judgment

we today might never know,

yet will still emulate to the best of our ability.

We could be a society of fakirs,

misrepresenting ourselves to feel like yesterday

has been brought back to life.

What if for a moment instead of finding the correct linens,

of knowing the proper stance,

of elocution and charming dialect,

what if we’d rather just be the person we are,

and stand before that moment without trying

to be what we are not and may not ever be.

What if just alone,

a compassionate human being

… if love we begin to share our ware.

Free, Right?

freedom

We all do want the same things.

We just go about travels differently.

In an auto, train or passage way

whatever the mode of operandi,

we are really all the same

in our efforts to find definition.

There are the people we seem to judge

with interior pillars of marble in their homes.

Hard to climb over such monstrous facades

we choose to simply walk away,

wishing we might sometime find a key

inside their hearts. Or is it surely a travesty

to imagine,

to hope,

to pray,

to one day, some day, any day now

figure out a way?

~

We all do want the same things.

Imagine a world where resentments

in the term itself, with all of its bitter construct,

hate and anger and spoil and envy,

become obsolete in their ability

to linger

in our hearts,

that one place where the ache remains.

At the end of the day

when figuring how long we might run this course

breathless,

scorned,

beaten upon by our own fists,

might we then find that eventual passion,

the shattered Albatross

of self-evident triumph!

~

We all do want the same things.

At the end of the day

no matter the sway

of our thinking, of our Nature,

of our committed course challenged,

there lies in our own lies,

the reality of desire and hope and dreams.

For no matter the brick and mortar,

who cares the fabrics and linens,

ignore the perfumes and makeup,

for they all give sadly new credence

to our ever present reality.

We are a simple lot

to recognize our vehicle we traverse

is in our heart and soul,

well rooted rather

than focused upon the eye’s desire.