Listen to poem:
The Rebel
Written: September 16, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
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Line of inquiry:
“Neither desire nor aversion
Meditation our immersion
Conditioned beliefs discarded
Hymns we hum are our own version”
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No ardor blaze nor stalwart scorn binds,
we dispel the bane of trapped, tepid minds.
Vintage myths, pernicious, now discarded,
their mahogany mask was no longer guarded
Immersion deep—our hymnody our own,
a cadence born of nephesh, not of stone.
No sibyl’s cry, no querulous apostate,
but inward light that limns a gentler fate.
We parse the path with temerity’s grace,
over euthanasia chill, and saudade space.
Voracious shadows woo, yet stall in vain,
their horrisonous chorus dulled by pain.
The caldron simmers with several concerns.
Yet, prosperity arises from internal burns.
A quizzacious logophile may indite,
verselets of sonder stippled into night.
Aphelion arc sibyllines — us decorum;
thanatopsis whispers dulcet in the forum.
We trudge over sludge, yet smudge turns design,
a psychedelic diorama, still divine.
No umpire heralds, no caducity’s bell,
but ipseity transmogrified as spell.
We christen silence, indite our own version,
a hymn of freedom, a mortal immersion.
So let the path be convoluted, long—
we walk invictus, singing our own song.
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