Musings on a Monday

I suppose you never really know who you are,
until all you find yourself in is stripped away.
Every layer that you once carried wherever you went,
masking your small spark of actuality.
It's much more comfortable to be comfortable.
Comfort for us humans
Is often found
In places where we feel there is no threat.
Places that promise a warm bed for our soul,
A guaranteed sold out show for our personality and abilities.
We sometimes get too used to the down pillows and applauding fans,
When we find our souls curled up on a cold concrete floor,
Or our talents in a theater filled with seats but no people,
We jump to the conclusion that we have lost ourselves.
Our little kingdom of identity,
That we have taken so long to construct,
Crumbles in a moment.
When all is lost,
Perhaps only then,
Everything is gained.

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