I’ve been protesting for quite some time now.
But, it isn’t protest in the conventional sense of the word.
False equivalencies, contradictions, misplaced notions of superiority, lack of humility, and a temper that often betrays the grace that I claim to seek.
Despite my shouts being swallowed in the void from which there is no return, I scream louder, but to no avail.
Those formidable weapons that I thought were wielded by others were the same implements that I bludgeoned myself with.
My soul is weary from the combat, but I am reminded that I am indefatigable, like the shoulders that I reside on.
I’m in the fight of my life with hypocrisy in constant pursuit.
And because of this.
I stand against the notions of haughtiness that would have me subscribe to the false illusions of my own grandeur.
Until I reach the nirvana – that promise of healing from the blindness of my own hypocrisies, how can I propose to pull the speck out of the eye of another?
The ivory tower that I once resided in and cast dispersions from began to reek, because I made it inhabitable.
Truth be told.
I’m protesting myself and the speck in my eye.
In closing, it is liberating to call yourself on your own
bullshit, because eventually those lies that we’ve told ourselves will gradually lose their power.
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