Even an orangutan can see itself in it.
But the hardest thing is to look into one
And have a conversation with yourself,
When the mirror You has sworn a vow of silence
While haranguing you with her eyes.
The big bang occurred, after you reacted vigorous to her truth –
The resulting madness has become the badge of your humanity,
A Death star of your totalness –
Herding you from the ghetto of your dishonesty
To the concentration-camp of self discovery.
Your head is filled with many words,
Words that fail to sublime into the speakable,
The relatable –
Tendrils of your soul that defy your grasp
So you find yourself trying to make meaning for it
In the hieroglyphics of everyday living…
Like divining what your life adds up to
In this world’s multiplication of privation
Or the division between love and desire.
And I am the child of fortune tellers,
Reading your star without ever entering your universe
To see your forever in the darkest stretch of our shared delusion
So I know what Reason meant to you
when you traded it for knowledge,
At the same rate of Judas’ silvery kiss.
But this is yet beginnings, welcome to the madhouse
You will always find each of yourself, coming back here!