He found the truth
Dug out a nice hole in his heart to hide it.
Tradition, institution and comfort
Like warm covers to insulate himself.
The I Can’t mythology permeates his worldview
He dresses for it, like dressing for the weather
Wearing fear, ego, and self-loathing like a three piece suit.
He sits in his office
His truth screaming as he silently complies with the status quo.
He stands in his pulpit, revealing the shortcomings of the congregate
Their wounds judged as he bleeds crimson.
His choosing to live a life of blissful hiding was a success
Until he became sick…or perhaps better.
The human body is not designed to suppress truth.
Like The U.S.S. Starship Enterprise was not designed
To take you shopping.
A pain of the heart, a falling out of grace
A revelation of vulnerability, burrowing through his comfortable fences.
He was scared to life, the moment he so desperately needed but not wanted
This time, right now, is all he has, all which is given.
His pride, a sacrificial prerequisite in order to trade up
To vulnerability. To connection. To frail, flawed and beautiful humanity.
His perfection disguise melting in the rain of diminishing shame.
He had no idea what to do next.
Which, of course, is a lie.
He knew exactly what to do.
The uncertainty of it working out is what will begin the journey
Of passionate curiosity.
He found the truth.
Dug a nice hole in his heart to hide it.
He did not think for a moment
It would take root and grow.
Written by: Jermaine Jay Lane
Photo by: Steve Garry via Flickr and a Creative Commons License