When I was young, the universe
Was vast and I
Was a microscopic element
Wandering the long labyrinth of life.
Conformity meant comfort,
Like the smell of home
That dissipates as you disappear.
They told me about where I came from
And taught me my existence
Like it was the determinant
Of my fate.
But you abdicate
Your pride and your status;
Trade your objectivity for
Your optimism for
And now their prayers and preaching
Are blighted by insincerity.
Why are we affixed on sin,
Like mortal motives are only the prey
Of covetousness and gluttony and pride?
But beauty is mortal
And I see it now,
Not in the depthless, deceitful demands
But in the development of purpose
In an ambiguous universe where I,
A wayward wanderer
Pursue my true essence.
Molly Nolan is the Weekender editor. Contact her at [email protected].