Read Thyself
Amber May
Read thyself to know thy fellow man, the Philosopher taught
An epiphany, she thought, look inside to understand humanity...
Though she opens a pandora’s box upon self-evaluation -
Internal landscape ever-flowing, eternally altering, hollow
depths unexplored.
Paradoxical inconsistencies shift through darkened crevices.
Instability and selfish affection tear at binding ties.
Continuously seeking confirmation of existence,
She innervates sensory neurons.
Hedonistic indulgences heighten the hollows.
A shell without a soul,
A lover who cannot love,
Prude sensuality, tantalizing tangibility, Ambrosia, Aphrodite
Seducing the world, fleeing from substance.
A vacuous mind intermittently electrified by thoughts moving
disjointedly.
Ideas forming and dispersing before coming into fruition.
Bordering on glimpses of brilliance, epiphanies dissipate
before captured,
Like chasing shimmering soap bubbles,
They pop in her mind-fingers just as she closes in.
Like a delicate bird, her mental images flutter about with a
restless grace,
Punctuated by stark superficial obsessions.
Her soul feathers brush against the boundaries of her body.
The heavy haze curtailing her connection is dissipated,
Yet she clings to her fantasy of inner substance even as the
truth bleeds through.
That One instant of self-awareness hits her.
Shock erupts.
Internal confirmation: “This is really me, I cannot escape
myself.
The thoughts, words, actions which emanate forth are all
generated from this being which I am.”
Can the savage self-reflect?
When we turn inward, do we find only raw instinct,
superficially refined?
She fears the philosopher was accurate in his prophecy of
human nature
