The Illusion of Separate

There is no me;
There is no you;
but there is us.
When I forget
this simple truth
the division dissolves
the trust.
When trust has
vanished
we are tossed
by the winds and the
waves.
Our sandy foundation
collapses
among the reef
we sorely brave.
It is I!, I cling
to my false (and imposed)
“rank of Right”.
After cutting you
off at the knees
I set my sword
down for the night.
My dreams assure me
of my “warranted”
deserved
position.
No matter the histrionics,
I white knuckle power over
relation.
This imaginary
separateness
seems holy
and I look lovely in its style…
I accessorize it
with rhetoric;
I lace with expectations
in single file.
“You must be
just like me,” I wag,
“except you’ll never
be close. And I’ll
be sure to remind
you,” I’ll nag,
“as I remain
verbose.”

“Too tall!”
“Too short!”
“Too thin!”
“Too stout!”
All these claims
I assert with
shouts.
The truth is
that
in this peep hole for
a view,
I’ll always make
you doubt
what makes you you.

“It’s because I’ll
need to prove
something and
I’ll need to be
right. I’ll need
to monopolize
the entire fight.”

But living in this
separateness does
not make us any
fuller.
We’d be broken
from our wholeness,
our light becoming
duller.
Every moment we
forgot that we
are of the same
stuff.
Every moment we compete
to prove which one of us
is most tough.

But what happens to you,
happens to me;
if divided we will fall.
These facts are inescapable
despite our wrestling with it all.

“Survival of the
fittest” discounts
fingers and small
toes: it narrows
life to death,
and to spite the face
insists to cut the nose.

This eye can’t
tell this foot
that he should let it be;
an only hand
cannot provide
the funtions of an entire
body!

The tongue,
who’s pink,
doesn’t hate the pupil
“because of its different hue”;
the stomach
doesn’t tell the
liver he’d be better
without it too.

The audacity of a
thumb to assert
more value than
an ear; as if he
can translate
the perception
of sound to
cause the whole
to hear.

Separateness
is to estrange
what once belonged within

loving discourse.
Its detachment is
demonstrating
a consciously
arrogant voice.

It’s beautiful to be
distinctive: it’s
important to be
fully “us”.
When one can
embrace necessary
diversity while
recognizing the sinews
weaved in between,
this is where love is
cultured: this
is how to find
every harmonic
mean.

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