Inept perhaps the swagger of self-confidence,
a beat up visage of insecurity rendered,
reaching out to find acceptance,
in a world of repetitive perpetuity,
an often disheartening ambiguity.
The ego thrives on delusion,
ready to take on a propped-up face,
to find a common ground connection,
and share what gives strength and grace
to our living, our purpose and place.
Some persona s are larger than life,
overwhelming in righteous stance,
over-confident to the point of arrogance,
and struck we are by their demands,
yet they too are in compensation, for imbalance.
We are all struggling to find our place,
to be at home with ourselves
within this human race,
and whether we are honest with ourselves or not,
the truth plays out in reality’s plot.
How we are understood, and what we appear,
may well be far less than truth,
but if we want to be transparent,
we first have to be true,
and not deceive ourselves or anyone else.
Honesty within is not easy,
our consciousness is a wily adversary,
and it is in facing ourselves truly
that we may find our peace,
and then a reason to be just who we are.
Deception is a stagnant play,
a going around in circles day after day,
and choosing this path is rife with obstacles,
loss and recompense no friend in a spectacle,
just a slow bleeding pain that misleads.
No need for the facade, dressing up or down,
being who we are is all that resounds in time,
for all the rest is a deception adrift,
lost in the actions of misdirection,
for we can only be who we are, in the end.
Pretenders are poignantly visible,
their plays of character despicable,
and for all their work to mislead the world,
they are deeply seen as an opposite,
and sadly deluded for the being.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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