POETRY: Significance

(Big sighs, honest eyes.)

Who are you? Really.

What do you see amidst the chaos?

When you are forced to look at yourself for so long that your own vision strips your reflection raw, even past the bag of skin and bones that carries yourself around all day.

(Like a child repeating the same word over and over and

over Andover

randova

Dan Rov Ah…

until the word is nothing but a meaningless noise.)

So, what kind of noise are you?

Especially after being left so stark.

And being reminded to exhale deeply…

Past the job title

that you’ve confused with self-worth.

Past the money

that you’ve confused with wealth.

Past your social status

that you only agree to because others do the same.

Even past your body

that you’ve confused with something more than just a vessel.

Don’t confuse the sign with significance;

don’t go to a cafe and eat the menu.

So, can you look at everything that you think is ‘yourself,’

Everything that you’ve built and worked your life for,

Everything that you’ve recklessly poured your heart and soul into.

And remove your ego from it all.

Even watch patiently,

as the whole lot of it burns down into ashes and embers.

Can you look at that new giant heap of nothing

With honest eyes,

And a big deep sigh,

not proclaiming a judgment of “good” or “bad” of the whole charade.

But still⏤even more so now—

true

to that raw reflection that you started with in the first place.