Sometimes I’m Honest
I wish I was better
I wish I was my ideal self
It’s as if there is a dichotomy between the, I, who strives for perfection
Who sees and feverishly seeks opportunity in every breath
Who wakes up every morning holding each day with joy and smile full of possibilities
An I, who believes with all things of the spirit influences everything and has ability to move the tangible and intangible alike.
And the lazily progressive, Me, who is planted in stillness
Finding reasons to divert motivation and stifle ambition
To sink into the sludge of the filth peddled in a daily concoction
Used to dilute and deny the existence of true self
Recognizing the canvas, being a pixel in the dreary image that is to become
“life as we acknowledge it”
And they fight.
The Rise and Ebb, as if Poseidon himself puppets the diagram of undulating