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The Creative Life
It will not be alright. It will not be OK.
We may not survive this reality
when the glass is broken, not half empty or full.
Wide awake consequences tear my heart out,
whittled down as shame covers me in a shroud,
head bent low, lower to avoid the sight of those
dreaming of power at the expense of others
who tell the truth about a life lived
fully conscious, today, and stand to face
the powerful who would be king.
Some will fight again, but me, I am a statue –
a stone forged by optimism and hope
now melted away. No, it will not be OK.