From the gold-wired peacock in mass man,

Entrapping us like the black singer in his bear trap

And to the expendable, brutish, savages that we are

Reason is God, and fear is the Eve who horns him.

 

I look at myself in the reflection of grey water,

Sulking, longing, begging for acceptance hiding the public, private pain.

No person sees my mind swing in on its fear, I feel

Obsolete, and I know my lesson must be immediate,

The fear of not being accepted, is worse than unlearning a gift, it 

Hits me harder than a boy with the blues.

I am rejected, a maimed butterfly attempting to fly

                                   but I have no Silent Wife.

Now as I walk with my friends along the beach

Great moments are made with those closest to us

                                    it comes to me like the flash Eddie has.

 

Lances like the sea canes that separate us from a love we deserve for

Ourselves, we do not need acceptance from anyone.

Voices no matter how thin our own is, is our lux-mundi.

Every action we take should be for ourselves.

In times of darkness we must be a master of light,

Sending help to those who suffer from this Schizophrenia,

Allowing them time, to understand that thunder can be changed,

Letting them know that they are the leviathans in those times and now,

Letting them know that this time the acceptance of one's self is more important,

 

Than the riddle of Peer Gynt. I must chose "poetry" or else,

I would have always been haunted by the gulls with rusty tongues

Many years have passed, and the beach is the metronome that links me to my past

Endings opened my beginnings and now I require nothing more but to help others,

as a man once said the only thing to fear is fear itself.

 

Time heals and so will you.