November 3, 2018 life
There is an illness in him,
driving him always
to share his bad ideas,
his anger and his fear,
so they will spread like a virus,
until he does not feel so alone.
We could pity him,
or offer our compassion,
if his will were not so corrosive,
inflaming the worst
that lies dormant in all of us.
We could even forgive him,
if, through some karmic twist,
he were stripped of his power,
moved from the center of things,
and left, like most of us,
in his own private world.
But now,
we are all culpable
for the spread of his disease,
until we share responsibility
for this fevered dream
we share with him,
until we will ourselves
to awaken.