I am highly self actualized.
Only, I cannot get you to see
Why I want what I want, and have.
You see, I am just a person.
A person’s needs are slim.
I have them.
All I want is the whim.
To sit, process and distill insights.
All my life of days, let live.
The fruits of my inner labor
Could themselves lead marvelous beautiful lives
Fleshed out in action, reinforced really,
Spinning cosmic glories like rainbow yarn,
Vibrant beings multiplying our bounties.
Only,
You need to discover them,
And they need to validate your buried thread of truth,
So that you’ll need to reiterate them,
Spread them like life-giving love.
Without this, they will never live their full lives
Of having right effect on ours.
I do not keep them to myself
So much as they
Dwell with me (evidently).
I have no skill nor effort
In getting them out there.
I am concerned, sure,
Conscious they could be of service.
But I am accustomed to being in others’ shadows,
Being neglected, so what hope have I
Of their reception?
Few are concerned with my care
In their ignorance.
So what care could I summon that others benefit?
I am replete in my mind’s company.
I was once incomplete, and it was then
That I believed I must serve you
And receive nothing in return, fair enough,
My being worthless, my life a perpetual debt.
For most of my youth, I invested plenteous extra effort
In concern for you
Poured my prana into
A culture of Takers
And my well is no less dry for it.
So don’t seek to blame me
For my lack of lost skill or will.
I walk alone, though I mesh well,
Skillfully, in many places.
The curse of far seeing
And being little seen.
I am strange. And the strange
Is not to be distrusted.
But embraced, invited for its
Effect on you.
Yet how much wisdom
Must one already have
To know what is worth
Asking for?
I generate outrageous, holistic ideas
In a matter of instants.
Which could mend the world where it lay.
But I’m not one to promote them
on every flyer and streetcorner like a salesperson.
I don’t take up much space as a function, or a rule.
Influence, I trust none but the natural kind.
I’ll sit quietly meditating
Waiting for the world to invite my reflection.
If you want a piece of me
You have to know how to love the taste of mystery
How to even more love the ache of insight
How to kern against the tides for it, yearn for it
Lean into the winds for the wares I carry.
If you want a piece of me
You have to care to serve
What I’ve summoned in me
For the offering
You have to ask
Or I stay mute
Watching