we have had the courage to open pandora's versace bag,
but are we ready for the excess blinding our fragile and well-centered
visions of self in the doldrums of the manifestations of the brutal
ego that is now? can we become what we have envisioned? can we strive
past these terrifying voices all too familiar in the timbre of those
we love doubting us, of us doubting ourselves, and in it, us knowing
the absolute aburdity of their allegations, the fear and jealousy
pushing our guilt into the corner like so often in life, to be free of
all their entrapments, their debts, their self-hatred, their fervent
necessity to make us so ashamed to be 30 and past all assumptions but
that of our most inadequate fears, perfectly comfortable in the
devastation of progress, the deprivation of human interaction, at ease
looking down the barrels of anonymous guns in the worst neighborhoods
but infatuated with unease in the dark with quiet and unfamiliar
sounds, to be caught with our pants down in the unknown?

who is master when we deny self? who are we to bow to pressure like
passing royalty? why do we find this happening so much in our life,
again and again, our frustrations replaying themselves in this bill
murray comedy gone awry, this masquerade ball where we wander gilded
and velvet rooms looking for enchantment, for wonder, wandering
through fantasy and ecstasy, fear, amazement, always pursued by the
same suitors in different masks, more outrageous costumes, the
decadent decor & grandiose peacocks strutting and preening. somewhere
our humility sits lonely at the bar, dressed in ridicule and dollar
store gimmicks, hiding away the chivalrous and honorable soul, slowly
stirring icecubes into a watered down drink, flavorless and as empty
as the devil drink can leave them, slouching off with the match made
of temporary respite from these lonely hours, ensconced in
self-loathing, the last golden hairs of the light of hope once
clutched like a winning lottery ticket on a breezy day, now loose in
this new grasp.

so far from the bottom have we battled back, not content to lie
forlorn at the pit's limit, smashing into our surroundings with the
fury of discontent as we dig ourselves out. we are the walking instant
replay of evolutions primordial trek from the depths of beyond
comprehension to the mud strewn glory of that last step over the edge
of the abyss, our bloodied hands & hurried breath finally triumphant,
the panting slows, we are here, arrived.

but unto which new world have we entered, unto what new adventurous
plateau have we crept from down so long, what new sights are here, how
high does the new mountain loom?

we are left in the cold to ponder these questions amidst the churning
fog of our exhaled breaths...