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Whispers woven of darkness and light

 
I read of assumptions
that masquerade  
small twists of random soaring reality.  
Simple manipulated deflection,  
in hopes for redirection.  
 
"...Cast as victim or villain, perspective skews..."  
 
I read a lack of willing compassion  
where it's easier to blame  
than it is to take responsibility;  
humility taking a backseat,  
as a suspect version of certitude  
"my-way-or-the-highway's" it  
 
I saw it repeat,  
repeatedly.  
Flashing coyly into narrowed minds  
blowing fractural splintered winds,  
perhaps leaving stained color  
purposely smeared upon those  
that seem meant  
to be so sourly painted  
 
I balked at slanted belief  
reeking of hypocritical disdain,  
unflinching creative inflexibility  
long-howling at the moon,  
unintentional misunderstanding;  
To each their own —when it suits  
hard preaching one way  
yet life practicing the other,  
when outside meanstreaks run deep  
 
"...Pay naught, to both sides speaking..."  
 
---§---  
 
Dissolving a self's righteousness,  
pain mixes with infrangible ego  
True sympathy and understanding  
Oh how they flailingly dance  
upon pulverized shards  
of slicing mirrored glass.  
All the while, deep down  
knowing  
that it'll never be enough  
 
It's never enough.  
 
More, isn't always better  
it's just more.  
More need.  
More speculation.  
More cruelty.  
More brokenness.  
More spotlight.  
More pushing buttons.  
More feigning of.  
 
-Night-blooming jasmine unseen in darkness-  
 
So sure are assumptions  
that score flesh and drag mud.  
Is there kind beauty without agenda  
or any fairness in raw honesty at all?
 
 
I wonder... where is the unbiased openness  
blooming in hearts of humbled goodness?  
Where are joined public repeats  
of compassionate pleas  
fully grasping the whole picture?  
All seems lost and foreign;  
have I imagined such nobleness?  
 
Life's intricacies are a wish—uncomplicated  
 
Important intersections  
criss and uncross  
steadfast to irresolute,  
make rise a stubborn inability-  
(and) unwillingness to comprehend  
the precious passage of time  
is clear wisdom gained.  
The value of which is blind,  
not able to be entirely seen  
from such close(d) proximity.  
 
Only when the sand starts filling  
that bottom part  
of the hourglass, heavy  
then  
stark truth starts to absorb.  
 
Age incurred wisdom,  
clarity and empathy  
become small rewards  
that time gone, leaves behind  
(at least to the acceptant willing)  
 
Because it's never been  
(or will it ever be)  
just about the sun  
and the boisterous hubris  
of it's singular automatic warmth  
that purposely surrounds.  
 
It's a magnified realization—  
without the perfect  
fortuitous combination  
of various elements  
and brutal lessons learned,  
 
 
The sun would only burn... a sad lonely burn.  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Written by Bluevelvete
Published | Edited 8th Jul 2022
Author's Note
This longer than usual poem is a bit of an outlier that I originally started at the end of Dec '21. It's inspired from percolating thoughts after some late night random reading that ultimately left me bruised and enormously inspired to write. I recently added/edited/tweaked, so I know this is a bit disjointed and sort of feels like two poems in one. It's where I have left it for now, undoubtedly to be tinkered with in the days ahead.
*Note: Compassion breeds compassion.
It seems to me that being genuinely kind is easy, whereas you have to go out of your way to be a total asshole.
#truth #killemwithkindness #hypocrisy #strength
©Blu202
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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