More room to think
when I’m the elephant in the room no longer.
those roots and that trunk.
my ego into the size of a 1 by 1 Lego block.
It still hurts my sole to step on it, but that won’t last.
A smaller ego serves as the soul’s teacher.
And if I’m an elephant in the room now, it’s a wise one.
Who says we meet our fate in a straight, single-file line?
Who says the path is shaped in zigzag or dotted horizontals?
Paths are in infinity’s shape at soul-level,
A glop of squiggly lines wadded up into a paper ball at material-value.
Take that crinkled sheet of tree pulp and toss it in the waste bin,
and only let Infinity in.
Tomorrow is a worry house that willingly, no one calls home. But it calls on them. Takes the mind in its uncertain hands and distorts it. Makes a fort for it and only spoon feeds it what-ifs and shoulds and cants and more what-ifs.
Today is as tangible as air, as dry sand in tight clutch.
The home awaits. How long we are looming over morrow’s gates is entirely up to us. And we won’t be freed until we realize the gatekeeper is none other than ourselves.