I stand
Center stage
Blinded by a flood of light
Hoping to be heard
Dreaming of acceptance
That will never come
Shamans live
In forests
On mountains
Invisible even amongst the masses
Being other
Is the gift and curse of
Sight
Silently I scream before opening
My mouth
In roaring whispers I
Paint pictures of humanity
Upon your eardrums
Forcing you to reconcile
Your truth
With truth
A vengeful angel of mercy
Wreaking havoc with the
Building blocks of your
Moral constructs
I pray for you
For us all
In poetic streams
While guiding you towards the
Edge of rapture
Performing a slight of word
Before disappearing
Leaving you to question
What is real
What is dream
What is truth
As you leave the performance
Bewildered
Wondering
How did I get here
What does this mean
Who am I
Really
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