Identity Rentals

How mercurial our reality has become.
We hide,
but we parade.
We network,
but meet only handles.

How capricious our personas,
desperately pursuing validation,
always willing to move from long term
to short term,
monthly,
weekly,
daily,

hours and minutes.

Does time really make the difference?

Tendering accountability by plastic,
we adorn our image with Amex Black,
Platinum,
Gold,
Green,
Visa,
Master,
Discover
Debit,
Conceding to passwords,

And that ubiquitous catch “safety” word,
Encryption

But…

Hey, we're safe,
Right?
Concealing who we are,
or might be?

Who amongst us really knows

who they are?

Step out onto the sidewalk,
hold your gaze upon the concrete.
Eventually a creature will emerge,
whether today or tomorrow,
it will be all it is.
For even in the insect world,

they/it know not “playacting.”

For other than humankind…

Role-playing importance

suffers few sleepless nights over identity
versus anonymity.

Awake time furthers our doubt.
Mirrors reflect,
ponds reflect,
conscience reflects,
But do we pay attention?

Might it be…

Images have become mere echoes,
momentary glances,
tangential moments projected loud,
determined to close the distance

that space between who we wish we were,

who we are,

and most importantly,

who we are capable of becoming?

Most wait.

The empty rebound returns a resonance
thin of inner-vibration,
a hazy vision of the ever-lonely search for identity,
for mental real estate fully owned,
one's naked essence without costume.

Until then…

Save wisely to own,
lest one remains

an identity rental for life.