The Tedium of Arrogance
Lucid, crystal moments,
shivered skin and chill attest,
the waking of a thought,
when clarity carves deep recesses into flesh,
where once secrets held,
and now in silent refusal unleashed,
spatter truths in new skin melds
with mind.
A sigh of release
expels the doubts, the facts now out,
to soar in ether’s embrace,
and find place in reality’s brand new walls,
the periphery expands to accommodate,
to add to all of its assumptions,
and we in glazed epiphany,
rest egregiously on our laurels.
But what step was taken,
a glimmer of a glimmer so small,
what omniscient mind
would take pride in our thought,
just we for thinking we own the truth,
or some modicum of its shadow,
a dot at the end of a sentence,
that we as a sentence take for our own.
The light may touch us intermittently,
and pleasure it may bring,
but thinking we own everything is unwarranted,
for we know less than a plant,
a simple cell so attuned to life,
no thought of strife, just acceptance;
so who are we to attest epiphanies,
left and right in our shallow lives,
when intellect takes us further from truth,
instead into an ingratiated ruse?
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