The one called I

A dichotomy exists
one which I can not escape
that, the one called I, cannot escape
one of nobility and evil
one of a broken system I wish to embrace
a system I wish not to change
a system I want to fight
not for effect, for cause
for I fear life
cause I fear the sex called her-
the life sustaining nurturing ocean
breathing slowly and cradling existence
who’s tides are predictable and changes disastrous
whose changes unleash the power of tsunamis
the power of unfathomable force
her dual nature is frightening
and I is a hollow term
one connoted with endless adjectives and descriptive phrases
who’s word merit no meaning
a tree with no leaves
-
who’s leaves have long since fallen
and only the promise that winter is at least half over
keeps the roots drawing water
consuming without creating
a deciduous fool
envious of the evergreens
the shading trees that protect my delusions
have grown thick and are in need of repair
I sit under them craving view of the stars hidden
longing for view of the beauty denied
entrance and exist to booth sides of me
what little energy it would take to leave comfort
to be embraced by the beauty hidden
but I do not leave comfort
I am cold
-
the house promises warmth
the house promises safety
but the house rests on speaking walls
I have heard the walls
desolation exists here
for here is where failure will receive me
so I am stuck
in a dichotomy, a fallacy
one that protects, one that denies, one that sees no hope
for I fear what hope brings
disappointment
so now the one called I hides
the one who is hollow
the great cynic of now
the freedom fighter forgotten
the one
who must change
this change will not be guided
cannot be deterred
what morality exists that can deny these forces?
A child with a shovel watching the ants pass
is this what homage is paid to?
Is another view correct?
What system of evaluation can be given
to identify that which cannot be
held, seen, heard, felt, ignored, embraced, earned, stolen, conceived, or denied?
What point and purpose does such a thing hold
why can death not be the ultimate?
Questions exist in the hollow stillness
but no answers can be found sitting listlessly within it
the hollow stillness the one called I can not deny
that the one called I embraces
for I is a hollow term
a dichotomy, a fallacy
one of nobility and evil
one of observation and incognizance
one of intelligence and stupidity
one of philosophy and short-sightedness
one of loving and abandoning
one of identity and questioning
one of fearlessness and cowardice
one which fills all essence of my being
one which empties all identity from my being
one which leaves me here
alone
the one called I