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Expectation Is a Serial Killer
Until noetic hearts or cardiac minds will be a reality for most of us
Expectation is a serial killer.
It murders every now we experience.
Ιt tears the heart out of the real,
offering sacrifice to the un-real.
As soon as something we like begins,
we hung ourselves up on its future,
becoming a walking just-potential
of satisfaction substantial.
Fearful as we are of the unknown,
we construct then an illusory scenery
around the next phase of the present,
“signing” an imaginary agreement.
We want specific outcomes to manifest,
and we count on them to feel safe.
Self-reliance is the work we avoid
paying the price of being an android.
Robotic, unconscious, automatic flow;
dependence from the others’ moves.
We call “love” the source of that
expecting a prize for our sad combat.
When reality doesn’t show up
at the appointment with our fantasy,
disappointment burns our sternum,
further clouding the mind with fume.
“Life is unfair! You promised me!
I will never trust anybody again”!
A self-created pain from the unfair,
unless we take responsibility’s share…
We rush and rape life’s flow,
‘cause the inner axis is shallowly nailed.
Instead of strengthening our muscle mass,
we pray for the wind to be kind with us.
Our childhood’s unfinished business
holds the reins, with our consent.
We love through lack’s distorting lens
instead of freedom’s moral sense…
