Feeling Rubbish, Feeling Blessed

Every day is a struggle for existence
Between two mes
A me that feels rubbish
Cast aside and treated like muck
And a me that feels blessed
With talent and luck
The me that feels rubbish
Looks for somewhere to hide
The me that feels blessed
Wants to share with some pride
The good fortune he’s found
Not bury it, deep underground
How many of us, I wonder
Feel these two ways
In fear and in love
About our selves?
And how many more
Suppress one or other or both
By closing the door
This way or that
Or averaging or cancelling them out
In mediocrity or self-oblivion?
Is this, alas, poor Darwin’s legacy?
He, who with a scientific man’s mere heart of stone
Bereft of affection
Regarded as ‘natural’
The preservation of favoured races at others’ expense
Or was it his patriarchal inheritance?
Down a long line of psychological descent
From ages before
When someone of upright stance
Assuming power over all other
In spite or fear of uncertainty
Split matter from space
By means of hard lines
As something created instantaneously
From nothing
Is there no way to reconcile these two ways
Without averaging or cancelling them out?
When, deep down, we all know that there is
Don’t we?
Through realising why each naturally includes the other
In the untouchable core of our being
Where love and life meet
In mutual embrace of darkness and light
The receptive stillness of space and responsive energetic flux
Dancing in partnership
To co-create where we all dwell
As needful inhabitants of fleshy, mortal bodies
In natural communion
But to know this alone
Without being able to share it
Brings no respite
From the hideous fright
That comes from living
In the midst of an unforgiving crowd
That doesn’t want to know or care
For what gift you might bring
But pounces instead
On what, in its fierce cat’s eyes
You do wrong
And calls it failure
Not good enough to pass through its gate
Between damnation and welcome
Then the struggle continues
Until and unless
The ice melts,
Disease spreads,
Rubbish accumulates,
Urban sprawls,
Money fritters away
Diversity declines
In global warning
That something is wrong
In the way we’ve been taught
Down the ages
To think in the past
And we need to rethink
Our true nature
In need of fresh air

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