LOW HORSE

the high horse can run around as much as it pleases before its collapse, leaving you with nothing but a heap of bones and uncertainty. it could be me after all.

the decision was supposedly self assured but there are clear memories of delay and endurance. with it an expectation was established, and the cage thus lowered. initially a choice, now a binding agreement.

i seek to walk the middle road. conviction still holds many things sacred, and that's why i wish everything was unseen.

the self and the image are far apart, and the mismatch is widening. but vanity is not the case more apathy towards the fuss.

like the tonsured monk i subscribe to sticking it up to the ego and social legibility, but i do not revel in the pains of the right death. a judgement still lands when the symbol is emphasised more than the philosophy. and a misjudgement at that.

my interpretation would be loud while i grimace at every move, yet i find myself looking forward to it. but i won't let it touch what's dear. i fear sorrow more than anger.

it's easy to admire a revolutionary from the side-lines, not to be one in your own present. no one talks about how hard personal liberation is when you love and live easy.