The responsible liberation from
Persona is a form of submission,
Or harmonizing with the flow
Of a feckless helmsman which dethrones the ego
And yet, by way of waving all controls
Has nevertheless remained the sole
Arbiter of values from the start;
By turning the self into a work of art
Isomorphic to this wild ride but
Worthless in the sense that pride
Is a far cry from dominance,
Or how the civilizing impetus betrays impermanence.
It’s the ataraxia of wearing a mask
That defines the role emptiness plays for the cask;
Made by the power of zero, buoyant as
Receptivity charges up the voyant.
How to find balance without the tiniest pest?
Is it a kind of Orphean hubris?
Piping out memes to a Grecian bodhisattva,
The form of formless beauty that one seeks
Hides forever after in the raw
Like force is made strong through deference to the weak.