Release

Release

I am who I think I am, so don’t let him off the hook. A release often uttered in times of change and uncharacteristic behavior. A quick burst, an injection of sorts, filled with an inconvenient truth; you are who you say you are, always and forever more.

Revered with the same devotion as preparing for an oral exam, I practice my tone. I practice my style. I address attitude and cater my words to fit the situation. It is repeated at a high pace in moments of panic, faithfully permitting entrance into an inescapable peace.

So, I believe. So, I’ll always believe. I am seen clearing a cosmic doorway, hearing everything in silence.

I am recognizing everything worth noticing and spotting everything worth paying attention to. I am seen stepping into calmness and acceptance, where my understanding of this world is shared with others. Where your world is fully accepting of the genuine unselfishness of mine. Where a breath is all that is needed to convey meaning, and a glance is monetized as currency. But a release, a release is temporary. The daily grind is a lingering line of chaos. Waiting in vain, tiresome, trying to impart my soul onto the consciousness of another. In hopes of the world that I live in is seen, shared and enhanced by yours.

Your world, non-forgiving and harsh to those ill-equipped to face its burden and weight, it roles on with ease blind to the truth.

Your world, perceived as forever in the eyes of the inflicted, steady in its stare, naive to the discomfort it causes but merry to the pleasures it brings.

Your world, endlessly and tirelessly vindictive to those brave enough to spit in its faceless bravado, questioning motive and arbitrary action.

Your world, firmly asking for forgiveness, in all due respect, not recoiling or releasing in your stance of change.

Your world demands the ceremonial knee while benefiting from the endorsement. Knowingly ill prepared to venture into deeper waters. The shining,

Your world is armed with the tools that trail blaze the path ahead. Seeing it as it always has been, comfortable; the so-called status quo.

My world, reluctantly aware of its torments, it roles on; hiding its true intention of guilt and conformity.

The light you provide is blinding, graceful and needs protection. My world doesn’t stand a chance.

My world, rebellious and curious in nature. My world has seen the world shift and turn on its axis and has developed a keen eye to the raw materials enriching its soil. My world doesn’t stand a chance.

My world, has a thoughtful core, tamed with introspection too often. Knowingly too harsh for others to endure.

My world is where items will always just be items and the rain is more sought after and desirable.

My world is harsh and dim, difficult to inhabit and often picky. We know, we know my world doesn’t stand a chance. The way I notice the morning light is by noticing how dark it is. Your world or my world, where do I place my bet?

Surprisingly, I always bet on myself. What are my other options? Is it to be defeated in self-doubt or live up to other worldly expectations? I stare sometimes, both in admiration and pity noting how the shackles of self-have clouded judgment.