Analysis of Destiny's Depths

Deep in the dungeon of destiny,
A dynasty of delusions sing their siren songs.
I feel Detached,
Defeated… Heated,
By the fiery indigestion
Of believing I am subject to reality,
And the sad sensation of knowing I know better.
Dust dangles from my eyelashes
As I heavy blink in disbelief.
It’s dark down here
In the forever dusk of cowardice,
In the complacent climate of clambering for hollow highlights.
Then I see a flickering light,
A phantom of myself
Strolling through the Milky Way,
Plucking stars from the cosmic soup and eating them like grapes.
The light explodes inside me,
Filling every crevice of my being.
I define my destiny,
And dust off my dirty knees,
To return to earth…
Not a victim,
But a victor.
Not subject to,
But the subject of.
Made of the same matter as
Mother, mouse and moon,
Rolling rivers and royalty.
I am a radical collection of free radicals and negative ions,
Notoriously negotiating
The need for validity.
I don’t fit in,
I do fit in.
I am…
And in that there is no question if I belong.
I am brave and beautiful,
Though I cringe to boast,
Because I have eaten all the lies that said I am not worthy,
I am nothing and it is wrong to believe in my greatness.
Regardless, I am not here to host,
I am here to exist,
To shine, the way only I can,
The same as every other divine being,
Which is every being.
I am shedding the shackles
That shrouded my vision
And nearly smothered my existence.
I am the director of my destiny
And this time around,
You will not be finding me on my knees,
Unless I am planting seeds.