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Poem

I don't show it, but sometimes,
I slip into the serene sanctuary
of a sound slumber, and I arrive
in dream with feet rooted in 
the peak of a hilltop that
overlooks the masked shadow of 
human nature, and allows me sight
into the depth of a spirit.

It is here, on this brink
of my softest sense,
I rediscover the cycle of
what breathes and lives
And detach my existence
from the restraints of 
a myopic perspective.
Using what crumbles away
of my former perception
as means to remedy the
illness of possessing an ego,
I search.

And, I find truth.

I find truth in the significance
of being insignificant by a closer
comparison to trees, insects, and 
water.
And my head descends in shame
from vice of mistaking 
point of view for purpose.
For the world moves while I
stand frozen on this hilltop,
And these bugs I squash,
trees I ignore, and water I waste
do more for this existence than I.

And of all connections inherited
from birth, I find mine to the
"Unappreciated" teaches lesson
on the tipping scale of life.
It is on this thought, I dwell
until I free my feet by waking.
Waking to a comprehension of
connection that surpasses 
the fallible understandings 
I once clenched as fact.

And through the clarity,
I embrace this humbling fact:

If I am nothing for my lack
of contribution to life while living, 
then, without a moral mind and
kind heart offered to my fellow 
beings,
I do nothing for the greater good
until I die and become sustenance
that lives in the earth.
Should I ignore this truth and
indulge in a selfish survival,
What "good" am I now?

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