_when we say ‘fine’

Humanity’s frequency is in the volunteer of a beauty unobserved. She, the tactile-defensive said: ‘Can I give you a hug?’ — and unflinching, followed through.

She asked if I was sick or sad. I said a little of both.

It’s funny that freedom is something we voluntarily lock ourselves out of when we say ‘fine’ – which I guess is why I am still trying to map where this elusive Liberty lives…

…but the creator of my reality knows me – because the creator of my reality is me…

— and still, I sulk. Them unfrequented grounds of camp and their fastidious cliques depress me. So excessively particular and demanding, that tirelessly habitual critique is an ironically priggish brevity so sickeningly binding of itself.

I have to door-slam stop myself and – catching my reflection from mirrors within mirrors – I wonder: does my questioning and hate for this depth-lack come from the arrears of my own blueprint?

Impatience…

Don’t look down… the fear that lies beneath you is not what I’ve done…
Don’t you see? That if you really knew me, you’d let me turn the key?

The creator of my reality knows me – because the creator of my reality is me.

Isn’t it ironic that failure is something we don’t know we’ve even considered while freedom is something we voluntarily lock ourselves out of when we say ‘fine’?

She asked if I was sick or sad. I said a little of both and she said: ‘Can I give you a hug?

Redemption is humanity’s volunteer in a beauty unobserved…

…and it is inside of this vitality that I find the trail of Light to where Liberty lives.

© Dylan Balkind

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