Proving Nothing

Greatness is defined by the company, through the affirmation of deeds, and separation from mediocrity, the perfunctory and meaningless. It is never masked by garish fashion in all the glory of chiffon and silk and all the proclaimed chocolates of the clothing kingdom or how well the colors are painted on skin as canvass or how our mane fall back and suggest drama. But, the painfully existing thought is, nobody acknowledges the true sense of shallowness or the gravity of what should be upheld. Few would want to fix their gaze at an uncomfortable angle to see so much, so much insofar as the dimensions seem limitless in the reign to explore further the recesses of our morality. Like some bitter spell, wanting, engaging, fooling yet masked by all things wonderful to behold, all are drawn too easily, never questioning whether these are meritorious or temporary, whether important or unjust. We think highly of awe, and underrate familiarity without critic further tipping the most unfortunate scale of keeping our convictions at bay. In so much as we want to pattern our lives in pretense, to fill that need to affirm what we are made, we lose track of who we really are.

Devaluing the self we took our whole life to build, ripping it strand per strand, slowly, until all that's left is a code of shame, undue shame for our substandard understanding of our respective characters, of what should not be shame but pride, of what should not be ranked but individually tailored and again, great pride in things small and smaller