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Poem

To live means to be alive, to defy unfulfilled moralizers,
Digital prophets marked by the compulsion to preach,
The trendy ideologies of the day, without hesitation, without end,
To be alive is to touch destiny with the hands of fate and become worthy
Of the breath that vanishes in the great adventure of death,
To break away from the safe shores of the ordinary
And plunge into the pure tumult of life, to rediscover
What it means to be human, to atone for the sin of unraveling.
To be alive means to be your own master, teacher, leader,
The pioneer of your own life, venturing forward
Toward the primordial flame in the darkness, not letting them
Stifle the eternal beats of your heart.
To be alive means to love your solitude,
To bring to light the treasures found only in the silence of solitude,
To follow the creative impulse regardless of conventions
And public opinion, to follow your inner calling.
To be alive means to wander through meadows and over mountains,
To be an eternal traveler in search of the sublime,
To be radically present when the trees rustle in the afternoon wind,
To live each season as it passes, to breathe the air,
To drink the drink, to taste the fruit, and to surrender
To the influence of the earth, to escape from the dungeon of dead dogmas
And decrepit creeds, to yield to the subtle whispers
Of the neglected part of your secret essence, to plunge
Into medieval depths and recapture that authentic LIGHT
Of your own BEING, to unveil your divine madness and dance
Once again with unimaginable joy in the vast muck-heap
Of this fallen world, to live each day as a theater play
Where you are the leading actor, and the stage is vast and full of mystery.

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