Soul Vision

Anger is a virus, a mucus that clings
Like black tar.
Attractive to our pain
Like sticky honey in a jar.

Its beauty is a mask
Dressed in refined gems,
Oblivious we are at being reduced
To one of ‘them’.

Reduction to nothing that feels like something,
Subtraction of our soul.
We become that which angered us,
Citing justice as our goal.

We morph into one another
Like an angry, seeping oil slick,
A plague in the dark of night,
Lethal, quick.

We anger another and another
And the cycle will go on.
Relentlessly propelled by the myth
That we are strong.

In the treasure chest of hearts
Lies the antidote so rare,
Its blinding brightness
Uncomfortable beyond compare.

Soul vision like an X ray
Bringing truth near,
To witness behind anger,
The crouching, timid fear.

Truth is power, power is knowing
And unknowing.
Like anger, the gift of soul vision
Is growing.

Anger by Liza23q on

Anger by Liza23q on


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