Show them, hold them ransom
To thy conceit, craving gapes, wild applause
To feed thy vanity absent which leaves thee bare
Replete with faux auras, hankering for more
All style, substance fading
Vacant shells roll on clonking, hollow
Growing emptiness, insatiably
High on self, low on all else
Fueling manic growth of voids
Inner tears roll on concealed
Streaking the soul’s cheeks
Grief belied by lionizing fans
Whose own vacuums solicit thy refills
All the while, substance goes begging
Craving fusion with thy essence
Lending meat to weary bones of self
Opening eyes, hitherto blinded
By venomous pride, walls of exclusion
Crumbling, at the mercy of thy pride’s chisel
Fecklessly claiming, the soul’s attention
Pride now vital, an existential must
Love not spared the ravages of pride
Now turned outside in
Ne’er inside out, for beloveds
To exult over thy highest blessing
Filling life with hunks of meaning
For joys to be soulful
And souls to be joyful
Melting away the gloom
Of Vanity’s seasons of toxic harvest
©Alwi Shatry, September 7, 2017