Prelude

It’s getting too late, too late to

sleep, too late to dream.

The world is too much unless we

can see our sordid ways.

And then it becomes out of tune.

Until we can fix ourselves.

But in of all this, all of the hours, all of the time,

self-awareness exists.

It is the prelude to life.

So deep and wordy,

so cultured and well-read.

But does this mask hypocrisy and self-loathing?

All of the teeming diction in the world

cannot change selfishness and impaired grace.

Yes, knowledge is power,

but books can only take us from one cover to the next.

Life’s pages are much more complex.

A certain beauty rests in the copious compilation

of suitable words,

But this beauty is minute

compared to the profuse and greatly underestimated

beauty of an innate knowledge of oneself.

Yes you can love, but too often love is not understood,

and therefore not known.

Love’s great divinity.

Even the most sincere laughter and the most joyous thoughts

do nothing for romantic philosophy if they are not

grounded by the ability to know,

accept,

and love

the person you are.

Slow fade to black.

Playing one more game of chivalry.

A battle of wit and words.

Do you see where I’ve been hiding in this game of hide-and-seek?

In this prelude to Life.