Vacuous vault of vision,
Tenuous twist of time.
Spurious spear of schism,
Garrulous god of grime.
Something I've been discovering is that we all have something to offer wherever we are. So often people are discounted for not being in high standing, whether that be social, economical etc... The words they say and the things they do are secondary to their status. If they are considered of little importance, they're dismissed as "unsuccessful" and therefore not worth listening to.
Walt Whitman wrote,
I exist as I am, that is enough.
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.
This superlative example of contentment inspires me each time I read it, but it also makes me question whether he lived out these words; surely he felt more fulfilled after "Leaves of Grass" was published and he became the muse of American poetry. Surely he was happier after his success. Could he really experience peace, despite the prospect of obscurity and failure?
Maybe I question because I can't fathom myself mimicking his model; maybe I question because I can't bear to exist without this recognition; maybe I question because I loathe my every breath taken pursuing affirmation from the masses; maybe I question because this topic has been broached a thousand times over, and I've nothing to add to the discussion, and so I ask, listening, not talking, waiting for an explanation.
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