Nesting just…part two

She…
My soul hopes to meet Her
on the other side once the battle subsides,
when the smoke settles.
She, who will be the victor,
I have questions for that One –
killer, pinning questions.

How could this moment even come about
in light of my previously and proudly proclaimed ambivalence
to the insane world around me?

I am the picture of introversion.
There is no soldier in me; certainly
no General leading anything resembling a charge.
I have questions for that one, for Her.
How did She become an integral part me?

I have meticulously, carefully cultivated
what I thought was my true inner center.
Turns out I have only nurtured self-indulgence
and self-aggrandized “knowledge.”
This new-to-me self is too intense and revealing, almost too much to tolerate.
It demands my attention; I can no longer remain a spectator.

I imagine bursting from Center Self,
blinking at the shameful waste of time;
horrified by the relevance of my inaction;
I am at last released from the bondage
of arriving too late.

She and I are witnesses to the purest definition of chaos.
We sit here side by side
Hiding within hard shelled vessels
sporting intricate designs.
We are nested together like matryoshkas –
for the purpose of distraction.
Subterfuge the goal, heavily lacquered,
protecting our secreted inner personas.

I am tired of avoiding. It is exhausting.
If I am to live unashamed,
I am required to break the layers, to engage;
I am required to join Her…