Units of Identity

Units of Identity

Everyone is more or less
A translation of who they used to be
That being said, don’t get so

Settled in your own skin
Better to try new things
Find new people, mingle a little?
Everyone gets simpler as they
Ease into their own skin

It may take a few decades
Uphill and then downhill
So they say, so let go a little

Everyone is more or less
A poor translation of who
They wanted to be and resigned
With serendipity, they find
They can accept more than they once

Might have tolerated, it’s called
Life as a compromise, it’s the
Human journey, so we finally

Learn not to measure, judge, label
Inner peace is more valuable
Than analysis you might say.

Lessons from Aquarius

The Ego is that
And the pure self is This
Man is not intended to be
A self-centered being

He is not intended to be
Limited by form or by gender
Love is not meant to be a means
To profit descendants over others

Where there is conflict, there is ego
And where there is harmony, there is
Pure self, identity in others
Empathy for nature, for life, for

A bit of everything
Don’t let that unfathomable secret
Be hidden from you, don’t only
Settle for your own profit, it’s not enough

The secret Tao means to let go
And be a part of everything
Not to divide or create boundaries
But let the world in and go into the world

Then your ego will disappear and
Your self, will become the entire world.

The idea of order as a myth

We were crossing bridges
At every moment, like symbolic
Journeys made and left behind
Half-man, half-star

Just creatures half-aware
Through time, judging
With our sense of duality
How time and space and energy

Could interact in transience
Fate only lasted after all
Until we died, until moments
Became memories and acts

When the wind stops and the
Heart no longer beats, maybe then
We can say with some finality
That it is over, life was but a dream

A myth we perpetuated, like identity
Useful in its ability to give us
A sense of security and conformity
But somewhat misguided, calling

For pomp and drama at every turn
The ego was an incapable master
Of force, and full of fiction
Like the death of a soldier who was

Somebody’s pawn, it was all
Like a simulation, absurdity
Witness at the public square
The office room politics

And the stage, where we were
Like actors, unaware of our lines
Barren, regretful and hopelessly idealistic.