Self-righteous Trickster’s Blister

There are many tricksters out there that speak about love and the complexities of the human being in a very deceiving manner. They pretend to know what the path toward fulfillment is; not only that, they argue their path is the correct one. How pretentious! No one knows. Most are blindfolded. They are guiding in the darkness of fear. How can we trust them? The answer is simple, don’t. Don’t follow. Be critical and skeptical, not only of others but of also doubt yourself in a healthy manner. Be careful of the neurotic questioning. Walk along with patience, and ask yourself, “How can we distinguish between those who truly understand the depth of love as an unfolded agape and those who don’t?” First, you must look into yourself and ask yourself, “Do I know how to love unconditionally? What does unconditional mean? Why is such love so important? Is it really important that I also feel loved?” Your own questioning might be counteractive. Don’t stop because of that. You need to question, because if not, those tricksters might take upon your will and life. Just look at all the marketing that surrounds you. What is really your will and what is the will of others upon you? Continue questioning…

Who knows? 
	Who owes?

			So much me,
		so little you.
 
Who's me?
	Who's you?

			So much me, 
		so little you.

What's peace?  
	What's greed?

			So much greed,
		so little peace. 


In a place of whispers, there was this trickster, 
wondering, “Who has infected my blister?”  
wondering, “Who controls the reaper?” 

In a place of tricksters, there was this blamer, 
convincing, “Not I, not I, I am the righteous.” 
convincing, “You are, you are the monstrous.” 

Using tricks and sticks, they proclaim,
“I am the self-righteous bliss...  		[the trick: adding an “s” and omitting the “ter” ]
Follow me! Here, here, 
sleep some more, let me rule 
your search for meaning.”

...............................................................and BANG! 

Knocking at your door, obligation.

So much dread, 
so little empathy.

It's a one-way driveway, 
don't argue with blame. 
  
Knocking at your door, guilt.

So much caffeine, 
so little patience.

Why am I blamed?
Why am I inflamed? 

Knocking at your door, fear.

So now, you're all theirs, 
what's left goes in tears.  

Everything is a hardship,  
a lost ship sailing adrift, 
cursing the rhythm of life,
should I blame the blister 
rather than the drifter?

Should you blame at all? 

Life's a maze, a waiting grace. 
Don't let blame be your disgrace. 

Don't open the door anymore, 
let it knock. Listen to the clock. 
You're getting old. 
	What time is it?
		It is time to go. 

The time to uncover the trick 
has come. 
			
			Jump. 
			
			It's a wave! 

Surf until you reach the beach.  
Surf away from the self-righteous, 
the trickster and its infected blister.
Surf away from the self-importance 
that destroys you and me, 
a we, made of love's trust,
			as skies bursting orange 
		bleeding out of the blue,
as lemon against the lips 
with no more sugar left to kiss,
		as fire that keeps going
			but doesn't burn,
as a new you, trusting 
		when there's no trick, 
aware of what you're made of, 
			the heart of a star,
		stardust.