Vicarious Living Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Fine line between universals and individuality
A path that is your own amidst solid ground
Narrow gate where life passes thru truth
Existential authenticity amidst eternal pillars

We are all hidden in dreams
Sired in caves of self myth

The white light holds us along the steep paths
Pariahs of beauty
Rock music almost breaks up
Give me something with edge
The blue sky is back
Some are ravaged by incest, divorce and pain
Sanity becomes a broad definition
Some fight for every sweet meadow
Some lie and say they only see flowers

Precipitous love sifts me like fine flour
Are you satisfied with living vicariously?
Bells sing in the city of man
Heaven will rumble its glorious thunder
For now the pine trees in the wind grow
I am not a thing but an entity
I must grow like a seed planted in truth
I never liked plastic plants
Vicarious living is jealous with fear