“As Worthy As The Gift That Can’t Be Sought”

I.

At a certain vantage point,
In a certain light,
Maybe I look alright to you.
Don’t let that distract you,
Don’t let that part attract you,
It’s only a trick of the light.
 
You speak my language,
Which is why I haven’t heard you say a word.
They told you to focus on the positive,
But you know if you do that you’ll just get bored.
The world is a whole lot more interesting
When you see the whole of it.
Good and bad, joy and sorrow,
Don’t flee from the ultimate.
 
You wish there was something that could demysticate the mystical:
Domesticate the wild,
Force the adult out of the child.
You want something that will make it all clear,
But don’t be intimidated by what stays in the shadows,
By the silence that is harder to hear.
You fear what is not revealed,
What stays hidden, concealed.
 
Listen, if it was easy to find it wouldn’t be worth searching for.
If it was free to enter, there would be no use in having a door.
 
II.

There are beautiful things, like the piano that sounds the aching heart;
And ugly things, like the way you’ve been hurt from the start.
It is ugly when no one hears the lone hobo’s moan,
But beautiful the way you dance for yourself alone.
 
You’re a kindred spirit,
So don’t be afraid.
The world is harsh to those who hear it,
Hear the yearning, hear the pain,
Hear what is never spoken,
Hear what cannot be expressed or learned.
But here, take this simple token,
To remember that others feel the same.
 
I know you are looking for that piercing line,
The truth hidden underneath the lies.
But when it’s dark and you look out the window
Don’t you see a reflection of yourself?
Don’t you know there is nothing else?
Inside, outside:
There’s never been a difference.
It’s so simple yet so insidious.
I’ll share with you something,
I’ll share with you my precious time,
Which is not so precious and not so much mine.
 
I know it hurts you that the world laughs when you’re brave enough to cry,
But think of the beautiful things, like the startling clarity of the desert sky.
It’s an ugly disguise that you’re forced to put on to hide your mourning,
But nothing can conceal the beauty of the stillness in the early morning.
 
You’re a kindred spirit,
So don’t be afraid.
The world is harsh to those who hear it,
Hear the yearning, hear the pain.

Be aware of the walls
And watch them crumble before you,
As you stumble upon a recognition
That you aren’t quite as worthless as you once thought,
That you are as worthy as the gift that can’t be sought.

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