For a bit without wit, the murky stench of unworthiness crept through and then dissipated as the mayflies fill the sky and then die.
Benevolent Beings, be with me as I brave the cavers encasing the waters of filth and murk. As I trek through the sludge and find gems throughout. May the gems be one with the muck and not be established as better or worse. May I know that the muck is the same as the flower. Even the poisons make way for beauty as if beauty were better than the poison. The poisonous bliss of eternity flickers in the night forthright coming through and through. May the sadness illustrate the gladness through a filter of madness.
And so it is.
This writing comes after a day of fearfully consuming material possessions so that loved ones might feel welcome. And at the exit of the opulence, there sits a man pleading for life. Ignored and then I turn back to offer him a bottle of sparkling Perrier and 20 bucks. The tears flowed as I recognized him as my brother and my son and that those that plead for life are but a reflection of us all. The malnourished parts of us torched by the elements.
This writing comes after the tales of blessings shared. Of being mutilated by an industry created and creating fear through the promise of healing. The poison that promises those who have brought illness into their lives but then seek love as they decide to live. To live out of fear of creating an atmosphere where loved ones not longer feel welcome.