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 Pages Of A Woman's Soul


Here is the shining gilded cage:
devoid of any joy; a listless place where
she goes wandering among the hollow wreckage
of a wasted life spent in selfish pursuit
of the material, where there is no warmth
holding on to only
cold possessions

Here is the purgatory of the soul:
caught between the need to be the puppeteer
and the inevitable machinations which require him
to become the puppet; morphing into the heartless,
wooden imitation of a man
who embraces nothing
but power

Here is the empty, blackened stage:
the ceaseless posturing for false approval,
accolades from the faceless masses of sycophants
who live vicariously through you
when you're at the pinnacle -
reviling you when
you've fallen
from fame

Here now, heed the symphony of the spirit:
for without encompassing that which we truly are
all these other things will leave us abandoned and alone
rather than surrounded and fulfilled by the divine
where all we wish and all we are capable of
can be accomplished a hundred-fold,
to be shared in abundance
with the world
in peace...

Fill now your empty spirit!

K.Tate Jacoby
Copyright August 7, 2010

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