oh, the pain of deconstruction —
of returning to once solid foundations
and finding them less true
but impossible to remove.
drills of seeing that ceaselessly spin,
bore, make holes in all I once thought solid.
it’s devastating at first —
until it’s not.
then, it’s liberation.
for so long, I thought
the stories I’d been told were true.
that words meant to guide and instruct
were verified fact,
a measuring stick and a proof
with which to test the world.
and then, suddenly, they aren’t.
it aches, this awakening,
this coming face to face with
the profound absurdity of it all,
the desperate clinging
of my own mind to familiarity,
an ego cloaked in belief
and eventually, there’s only rubble,
room enough to build something else.
something new and open,
with the space for change.