...Aloof Icon...
I am the Aloof Icon, born to a swarm of flies
Who seek to find subsistence by the perspiration of my soul.
Drinking deep and following me in a cloud.
Leading me to a false sense of responsibility.
I cannot lead the flies to a point
Of drinking me to destruction,
Though part of the Mother demands it,
In a sea of harsh sand and expectation.
Their desire lies in their own selves.
Followed, I become the drifter,
Fleeing, when once I was the protector,
Defending the Mother against a Father's force.
Carried by the wind of Kali's breath,
I sought out destruction.
Self preservation thrown aside.
Wide eyes upturned, I followed.
Shunned the whole of possibility.
Headless, I was free of such thought.
I am the flesh of Parvati,
Heat of the womb and regenerative energy,
Mother of all others,
Seeking from stubbornness a new head.
A head demanded by the exit of obstruction.
A head I missed when body was without.
Lopped from me, the old soon fell away;
And left me to seek a new way.
I only became free from the removal of my own top.
Shiva, Iconoclast, I thank you, father.
I barred you're way as I did to so many others.
A difference born of my own thought;
And a consequence born from violence.
Confliction, Destruction, and Rebirth.
Mother's other aspect.
And, as is Mother, you are also rejuvenation.
In rebirth, I climbed the placid mountain.
The shrew accompanied me,
Nearly blind, but of a mind.
During our journey he spoke to me,
As only a true friend can.
"Desire," he said, "and to be less selfish
Must be be bound into one thought.
That thought must hold you.
It must be a constant;
And, you must use your new head to hold it."
Wise friend, you help mend me;
Even as mother sewing on the peak of my understanding.
With your help I can find value in flaws.
To help dislodge encumbrances in the ventricles of others.
To help with their own flow.
I hold my own broken tusk.
I remove my own obstacles.
I earn my new head.
In doing so, I help the flies.
The constant buzz becomes a flutter.
The flutter becomes a perpetual sound to my new ears.
Butterflies, as they should be.
I find my way, as do they.
We all travel the path, separate but together.
Aloof again, because we all find the way.
I'm spent.
Who seek to find subsistence by the perspiration of my soul.
Drinking deep and following me in a cloud.
Leading me to a false sense of responsibility.
I cannot lead the flies to a point
Of drinking me to destruction,
Though part of the Mother demands it,
In a sea of harsh sand and expectation.
Their desire lies in their own selves.
Followed, I become the drifter,
Fleeing, when once I was the protector,
Defending the Mother against a Father's force.
Carried by the wind of Kali's breath,
I sought out destruction.
Self preservation thrown aside.
Wide eyes upturned, I followed.
Shunned the whole of possibility.
Headless, I was free of such thought.
I am the flesh of Parvati,
Heat of the womb and regenerative energy,
Mother of all others,
Seeking from stubbornness a new head.
A head demanded by the exit of obstruction.
A head I missed when body was without.
Lopped from me, the old soon fell away;
And left me to seek a new way.
I only became free from the removal of my own top.
Shiva, Iconoclast, I thank you, father.
I barred you're way as I did to so many others.
A difference born of my own thought;
And a consequence born from violence.
Confliction, Destruction, and Rebirth.
Mother's other aspect.
And, as is Mother, you are also rejuvenation.
In rebirth, I climbed the placid mountain.
The shrew accompanied me,
Nearly blind, but of a mind.
During our journey he spoke to me,
As only a true friend can.
"Desire," he said, "and to be less selfish
Must be be bound into one thought.
That thought must hold you.
It must be a constant;
And, you must use your new head to hold it."
Wise friend, you help mend me;
Even as mother sewing on the peak of my understanding.
With your help I can find value in flaws.
To help dislodge encumbrances in the ventricles of others.
To help with their own flow.
I hold my own broken tusk.
I remove my own obstacles.
I earn my new head.
In doing so, I help the flies.
The constant buzz becomes a flutter.
The flutter becomes a perpetual sound to my new ears.
Butterflies, as they should be.
I find my way, as do they.
We all travel the path, separate but together.
Aloof again, because we all find the way.
I'm spent.