Finding birds of one’s own feather, futile it seems,
While consumed in the earth, not having taken flight.
Is there anyone here in this sky besides me?
Well, of course there are. It’s just that I cannot see
Because they are in spirit immersed in pure light.
Selves with bodies attached are forsaken extremes.
Pleasant time I am having so far as I play
Through this day most fulfilled in my usual tasks.
Simply seeking perfection – a bit here and there
To take note, as I find it, what there is to share
With a world that will care is all that this self asks.
I will get what I long for in some other way.
It’s no time for job interviews. One rugged fart
I’ll reserve for a company. I’m on my own
Independently nurtured directly from Source.
Survival of the fittest is done by brute force.
There’s just something about that I cannot condone.
Is it wise, in this case, that I fake well my part?
Discontent among others yet fresh in the mind
Is the challenge by choice that is easily made
Where awareness and free will let go and combine
In a newness of comfort. My mood is benign
In the presence of all else as I am portrayed
As one somewhat defeated and socially blind.