An Unreasonable Rant

Or, The Orphan's Lament

Why do people think it's a comfort in times of grief to subject you to their long tales of people you've never met, turning your moment of comfort into a memorial about themselves?

Part II: A Movement in Response

A few words tumbled into my head this morning and I started playing with them. They obviously need to be reworked and should be part of a larger piece. Nevertheless, they represent a sentiment; they are a reminder, of sorts, to seek a kinder disposition.

When will the darkness overtake us,
Remake us,
Into that which we despise?

Our worst fears
Confirmed--
About not the world,
But ourselves.

Battered by malice
All around;
Hatred bred from fear,
Reciprocity, and retribution--
The burning need
To get them
Before they get us.

Nothing so deliberate as
Preemptive prevenge;
More a subconscious posture
Inclined to hostility
Toward all existence.

Blinding us to
Joy,
Beauty,
Transcendence;
Leaving room only
For fiercely defending,
Desperately clinging to,
That which we ought to love.

Revering the self-isolated
Islands we call ourselves,
While simultaneously
Loathing them--

Willing to go to
Any length,
Betray anything
And anyone,
To preserve these
Selves
We've come to
Abhor
For our very
Self-inflation.

Resenting
The outside world,
To avoid resenting,
Ourselves
For succumbing
To detestation.

Unaware
Of the repression,
Diverted
by the projection,
Creating
the self-deception,
That what we see
Is
Not
A mere
Reflection.