One thinks of the age of Kings and Pharaohs,
notion of being royal, supreme than royalty;
A rite of passage, what was, for some,
grew roots, in others, ever covetous, of eccentricity.
Building blocks at the feet of a toddler,
build it up or munch it down?;
Strikes a strange resemblance, perhaps,
general view of society to the historical royals and clowns.

Sometimes a whole planet can’t seem to be enough,
whereas sometimes,
just when one’s curiosity meets discovery,
a tiny ant becomes an inspiration to go on.

Wonders one two many too often,
How does it feel to be at the top?;
Craving oh so strongly, is the power they seek,
or the incessant accountabilities promptly stop?

Or is it simply the amalgam of everything they have ever faced?

Time after time, still are faced, debate after debate,
begins with the ancestors, questions remains the same;
Open your eyes wide and tell me what you see,
perceiving our surroundings, or greater role in name?
A nightmarish monster, perhaps one would describe,
head on fire and the creepiest of smile;
the most beautiful thing ever, the voice, it screams,
tiny pigtails warrior, the hugs could take a while.

Perspective matters.

Expand your view, the reflection that you gaze upon,
world view, or the identity you gave yourself?;
it remains, your perception, the same,
generous and kind-hearted, or a vanity-filled elf?
Usually the circus men, referred to as freaks,
yet excited with fat thoughts, comes pockets full of money;
beginning of a different story, perhaps, but,
witness the ugly perimeter, or forget the center of honey.

Maybe the path to elegance does go through the valley of vileness.

Mortals being replete, joy of love and chaos,
born innate, with advantage rather philosophical;
seldom gloomy, bereft of mercy, yet in grotesque,
still finds meaning, ever so true, ever so whimsical.
Perhaps the behaviour, alarming, truly condescending,
responsible for being, for leading to such situation.;
Contemplating only event's froth, some might assess,
some might dive in, squeezing the flavour to completion.
Mettle to pedestal, every time we are judged,
neither by the bulging bones, nor by intelligence;
to grasp the society, its complex mechanism,
but by ability to understand, with sheer eloquence.

Beauty rises in the moment when one starts to see, not look!, but see...

Guide is the one, teeming with the past,
reward awaits, keep crawling to the future;
but why so curious, when two becomes one,
why despair present, hidden away, simply by nature?

Traverse through the echoes of fleeting perception,
realise that power, never flinching, never drastic;
rise in the moment, peer through that empty deception,
gaze again upon that shadow, the reflection, the Majestic.



Sam Parker
© samsite