Braggadocio Tears


What is it to see,
but never emerge from the dark?

Children marvel at color,
movement,
perception,
not knowing control mongers await them,
famished gluttons who relish,
adults obviating consciousness.

Some risk pain,
while too few discover
healing is not a poultice
to cover a wound,
but an ear drum,
or eyelid to remedy contrived storms,
blasts of empty oxygen
programmed to destroy observation's eloquent gift,
the always present sense of truth,
or not.

Risk waits,

Perhaps muddied,
but nevertheless
always at the ready,
actuality's hardened muscles
ready to serve,
to discern platitudes from profundity.

And so…

How courageous this willingness to risk,
knowing to cower is to embrace that safe place,
ignorance's wanton indulgence,
an anesthetized existence.

Oh, come on beach lovers.

For what?

Mere needle holes
purging victimization tears?

Lest we forget…

There is a choice of behavior,

one which nurtures responsibility,

or that of pleasure-conceit.

For ignorance sake…

Let us hope the Kool-Aid of choice

Isn’t “the chosen one’s” shot

Of hydroxychloroquine.