This life
is a cautionary tale
of what happens
to that dream deferred.
When the most brilliant
are neither mentored
nor recognized
and manipulation
of minds and algorithms
is rewarded
over merit.
When the most beautiful
never find a mate
or place
that nurtures
without voracious lust
or indecent profit.
When the most creative
lack space to breathe,
suffocating
in a straitjacket of debt,
staggering
under the relentless weight
of earning
our keep.
When the most perceptive
are ignored,
disbelieved and mocked
like Cassandra,
exiled from a culture
allergic
to Truth.
When the most sensitive
never find relief
from the constant shivs
of misunderstanding,
dismemberment of betrayal,
and degloving
of abandonment…
…eventually our limbs
stop growing back.
Sometimes
a dream deferred
doesn’t dry up
or explode.
It’s cannibalized
like a ravenous ouroboros
until nothing remains
and we vanish
into the Oblivion
we spent our whole life
fighting
but was always
destiny:
The cruel joke
of the unfortunate
time and place
of our birth.
© S. Rinderle, April 2025
