In defense of the ego
I don’t understand the itch
to get out from underneath
the ego
they speak of
emptiness
as though it is has a sweetness
all its own
but who will be there
to taste it
if you are nothing.
I forgive mine
its brashness
the way it clings to ideas
and budges
to the front of the line
I am grateful for its seat
giving me audience with life
and awed
that it doesn’t believe
in death.
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