The strangeness of these days,
Never seem to stop confounding this uncertain sense of ‘I’;
So many ways to be in such a limited space of time.
The ‘do’s’, the ‘dont’s’, the ‘should’s’ and the ‘should not’s’, never seem to run dry.
It often makes me wonder how those who are truly weary and broken must feel;
You exchange your cracks and imperfections,
For the ultimate, super-sized, pre-packaged, self-love deal.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand that presentation counts,
All that polish and allure.
But, all my fellow, mad dog members in this uncertain life,
How must one live honestly if none of us can claim to be completely pure?
I struggle, I must confess, with all this New-Age, glitz and glamour;
It seems to leave no room for those whose lives have been,
Auctioned under a far less, auspicious hammer.
It’s not rancid bitterness that prevails here,
Nor any claim to absolute truth;
Nor do I parade myself in the complete cynicism of the bored and vainly aloof.
It’s only an enquiry into our world’s current state of mind;
When did the desire to be replicant’s of false perfection,
Replace higher wisdom of simply being kind?