The Exampled Preached

I must say nothing with words,

Only with movement will I speak,

I will be so subtle that you will not notice,

I will be ordinary implicit & implied,

But with every true movement, day or night,

I am a secret rebel for the light.

When suddenly you admit a lie,

Or return an object got by theft,

When your whipping tongue is held,

From a weaker mind’s exposed back,

And you find yourself suddenly grown conscience,

For no known reason,

Recognize this as the product of my secret message,

My subliminal beacon.

When your anger which once tasted so sweet,

Sticks in your mouth like a sweat bee,

So that you wish immediately to spit it out,

When television grows boring,

When you notice the beauty of a tree,

Yet feel nothing of a hippie,

It is as if you have just decided to,

Like something always secretly wanted,

But never, not really, well almost, but not quite,

Know then you the effect of my rebel brothers and me,

Quietly spreading the light.

A wise sounding voice in your head may claim impulse,

Or your young mind finally grown mature,

Or the turning of a new leaf,

Or the beginning of a new year,

But slowly at first, slowly at second,

Like white glue peeling off of fingertips,

Inconsistencies of thought and deed dissipate,

Anger and hurt lose their edge,

Less and less is offense taken in,

And you become good,

And you will feel alone,

You will be held by love,

And you will be alone.

You may have been changed,

You may be seen by rebels,

You may be invited to fight,

Along with brothers and sisters,

To secretly spread the light,

But probably not.

You may realize that your journey entire,

From nothing to notice to bad to good,

Was led by the invisible examples,

The sub-conscience preaching of the light,

The preaching of the quiet and silent dissenters,

But probably not.

And if the change has taken you,

You will find yourself at first a clumsy bird,

Your vision and passion may make you a fool,

And you may shine the light in other’s eyes,

And make them blind in seeing if they can see,

And you will find,

That where you can see they’ll be blind,

And where you choose not to look they can see,

And nothing will seem to show them what you’ve seen,

Not words, not acts, not books, not grief,

And at this point where you will feel most weak,

With ridicule, and looks, and words behind your back,

The troops shall seek to secretly,

Spread the black.

And then you may give in,

The tools you’ve gained will be honed for manipulation,

Or maybe it was too late,

Maybe the light has sucked you in,

Become stuck between your teeth,

Mayhap you have been cursed with the love of light,

And we will be gone,

My rebel brothers and I will be gone,

You will be left alone,

With a need for the light,

And the misunderstandings of everyone.

And so you search,

And look and read and probe and ask,

Because there is nothing else left to do,

You will have moments of serenity alone in your car,

You will understand the universe on drugs,

You will think the most beautiful things,

As you fall asleep at night,

When you walk alone,

As you wash your hair,

In those thousand moments that we all have to ourselves,

In the bathroom, the car, the bed, the couch,

Between speaking and interaction with others,

Between occupation with objects,

There are those thinking moments,

And to you,

All will seem majestic and potent,

Alone.

You will despair,

In futility,

For now you realize you have given up your power,

To the pattern,

And the pattern drags you slowly into peace,

Piece by piece,

And you will say to yourself,

“I must say nothing with words,

Only with movement will I speak,

I will be so subtle that you will not notice,

I will be ordinary implicit and implied,

But with every movement day or night,

I am nothing,

But a secret rebel for the light.”

 

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