Uniqueness

In the yonder realm of tranquility

Heat waves weave the ripples of a lost world,

The motifs of utopia in the forms of oddities

As sharp as a paroxysm but meaningless to bare eyes.

In this bustling realm of forms

Self-love flares as viral as secondly bigotry,

Pique and chagrin just unleashed reactions

As crude as preached sanctimonies—

As fastidious as secondly updates,

As assiduous as automated functions.

Then perfectionist’s search for the best,

The yonder romanticism as false as Shangrila here.

But search on with thy mountain paranoia!

But search on saying ‘life is short.’

But search on saying the opposite!

But search on to the end of the world!

Nay prevaricate but better face it,

When thou encounter just oddity at last,

For it’s what it’s—what solidity attrition-proofed?

But, bravo, the secret lies in mere tuning it.

Tune it to set those countless odds as incentives;

Tune it to skim over rather than shove against;

Tune it to enlighten on ever;

Tune it for friendlier coloration.

And to be able to tune in and ask:

‘When one-sightedness betrays,

When physical stimuli is mere glazed over,

Shouldn’t I accept the uniqueness yet?’