Site icon Making sense of everything


For me this image of a sunset symbolises love in a broken, corrupt world.

“Dear Sir: Regarding your article ‘What’s Wrong with the World?’ I am. Yours truly,”

― G.K. Chesterton

One thing I’ve learnt over

the years is to never give

up on people, maybe I say

this because of profound

self-reflection, looking in

myriad mirrors of different

shapes, sizes –

convex and concave to find

a version of myself who has

transcended the anger that

scalds the soul and the bitterness

that roots itself in the deepest

recesses of the heart,

or perhaps I say this because

we don’t have the authority

to canonise saints and condemn

sinners, to judge, sit on the high

seat and say, “Guilty!” or the modern

synonyms, ‘narcissist,’ and ‘shit.’

If we traveled to the gloomy, musty

antechambers of our mind, we’ll

also find broken chandeliers and

snuffed out, rusty candelabra,

even the mystic with

an obsessive devotion to the truth

who makes his way

to selcouth dimensions

finds himself in Isaiah’s throes,

or Peter’s discomfort when

confronted with his depravity

or to use a hackneyed phrase,

‘the skeletons in his closet.’

The broken fall in love with their

suffering, and the successful

gasconade like they own a

piece of the seventh heaven,

the rich, control and manipulate

and the poor are perfidious,

the religious, self-righteous

the redeemed, flawed,

self-love is a myth because

everyone already loves themselves

so much that they think the

planets and the stars orbit

their world. Even some

contemplating suicide

do it because their dreams of

a cottage overlooking a verdant

valley interspersed with hyacinths

have become nightmares

of ash and bone. In all this,

I’m as guilty as you.

So let’s reflect love instead

of grabbing and grabbing it,

taking and taking and taking.

Not flattery, but a love that

conquers, a love that doesn’t

fit the other into a box

where everything’s

neatly arranged like furniture

in an immaculate living room.

Perchance I sound idealistic,

but despite all my fear and

insecurity, lust, madness,

and pride, I know that within

me, there’s a wellspring of

affection and I know you

have it too.

Photo by Storiès on Unsplash

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