Discover more from Poetry & Purpose
A billion pearls in cupped hands
My dream of "Invictus"
It matters not if I am Jesus or Hitler,
… if I am a soldier or a poet, a woke liberal or white supremacist, homeless or the CEO of Google, a Hollywood star or a cubicle drone, a giver of acceptance speeches or a lonely observer of the lives of the rich and famous, a conceiver of life or a childless child.
I strip off my clothes, I tear down my self-explanations, I deflate my ego and rob myself of the self-delusions I live from and die for, I block out my vices and passions, disregard my truths and the greatnesses in my character:
Underneath I find the unfindable, touch the untouchable, the raw dripping heart of adamantine throbbing in darkness and secret, the one thing all of mankind possesses, the singular gem no one can take from me, the one secret only I can tell, the one question both Abraham Lincoln and the child who died before reaching adulthood and I answer the same, the one home – the only home – that belongs to mw alone and where I alone belong.
Now I look down on earth from the far blackness above and I see them all, a billion bright pearls in cupped hands, each the same, each different, each an unbreakable gem radiating life, wonder and mystery in the eternal darkness.
Thanks for reading Poetry & Purpose! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.