🎤 THE WEIGHT OF DUST (THE WISE MAN’S SOLILOQUY)
Still there? How touching.
You think your opinion carries weight.
You think your judgment is gospel truth.
Let me explain something about gravity… and about silence.
Welcome to the circus of those who have no seat,
where the crowd acts as judge, and the verdict is spoken by the wind.
They watch me from their comfortable stands of misery,
performing an autopsy on my life with cheap knives bought at a fair.
Sleep too much? “Lazy!” they cry with no reason to give,
while they drag themselves to work in endless torment.
Sleep too little? “You’ll break apart, you’ll crumble and fall!”
funny how their fear becomes the rule that marks my path.
I ask no one’s permission, I follow no one’s schedule,
I am the author of my time, not a number on their calendar.
Their criticism is just noise, empty clamor of fools,
paying for what they cannot have with nothing but envy.
Build some muscle? “Vain!” Stay lean? “Something’s wrong with you!”
My discipline is the fire that burns their own house down.
My constancy stings them because it is the mirror of their idleness,
they would rather point fingers than face their own bitterness.
Dress well? “Showing off!” Dress plainly? “No taste at all!”
Their scale of values would not survive a single test.
Elegance is not a brand name — it is the calm of one who knows:
he who wears costumes for others is a slave who forgot he was born to fly.
I dress with the detachment of one who needs nothing to prove,
while they drown in the desperate need to fit in.
What a weary play! What a poorly written script!
I search for my own center; they only scream to be heard.
Speak, judge, opine… your noise is nothing but air.
Shout your condemnation… your rope cannot even reach my waist.
The world is a stage of badly cast shadows,
and I have handed back my ticket — I expect nothing more.
I have taken off the mask they bought for me,
and now they do not recognize the face they themselves scarred.
If I a
