waiting for the silence from another room.
the absence of arbitration.
inviting the cold disconnect of solitude –
the comfort of alone.
too often we gather in congregation of suppose.
disallow our words the freedom of truth.
and finding ourselves surrounded by assembly of deceive,
we trade our identity for the vanity of same.
how can it be –
this miracle of life –
this singular celebration of creation –
can somehow become so much less than allowed?
instead of stepping up to challenge adversary of deception,
we hide behind our banners of indifference –
feigned allegiance to (counterfeit) conviction.
yet when we find ourselves alone –
exposed –
wearing only garments of insignificance –
we shout from platform of contempt –
challenge delegation of discrimination.
uncomfortable –
wearing shoes that do not fit,
walking reluctantly through minefields of indiscretion –
conveniently hidden just under the surface of your regret.
standing too close to the edge 