Weapons

Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words…
those hurt much deeper.

Inside this shell of flesh and bone
Exists a spiritual creature.

Truth can sting as much as lies,
And worse than insults… so can WHY
An incessant Jackhammer
Pounding away at my conciseness…

Why that? Why this?
Why hate? Why Bliss?

Why can’t I ever stop asking why?
Trust me I’ve tried,
So many times…
Attempting to dull the sharp blade
of this bipolar constant companion of a question…

Substance or mindless distraction
Merely momentarily masking
The inevitable returning chain-reaction
Of the asking reattaching…

Latching on to inconsistencies with laser precision
Seeking to make sense of separation and schisms

Why some seemingly selfishly seek more
Leaving others without so much as a floor
To call their own…
Though now… “ownership” comes into question
Oh, did I mention..
I kinda ask a lot of questions

Countless hours spent alone allowed ample space for introspection
Amplified by attempted dot connection
Always attempting to see
the bigger picture clearer
Though I’d often like to look away..
“Ignorance is Bliss” they say
Might explain why I’m often miserable..

Another question…
Would I have it otherwise?
Intentionally blind all 3 eyes?
Absolutely not…
Surprised?
Let me explain why:
(It’s one of the few why’s I can)
After years under constant attack…
I’ve become stronger,
and now I fight back.

I’ve found fellow askers
Who’s kind words,
acknowledgment and advice
Brought my bruised and battered awareness back to Life

And reminded me of the most powerful word of all.
Not the incomplete version
that makes people fall..
Head over heels, or straight on their ass.
This version is in a whole other class…

THE un-con-ditional kind

LOVE

Bali Swara
Aka: Sym_B_Osis
(Written 4/7/2021, spoken word slideshow version available upon request)