My Temple

Krishna Patel Artistry 0 Comments

As I looked up at you and asked about questions of the life ahead.  You looked upon me and simply answered in riddles that unveiled themselves over time.  Reminding me that all reveals itself in good time.  To not rush the inevitable and enjoy the minute pauses of life in between.

My childlike patience heard only every other word.  Fantasizing about days to come and stories of others but never realizing the truth of my own.  Words of wisdom spoken in whispers throughout time.  Forgotten in the moment only to later subconsciously arise.

“Keep your temple clean.”  Words so simple.  With disclaimers and warnings you helped guide me through life.  Taking notes and applying what I could remember, improvising when necessary.  Keeping my temple clean.  The marble white structure lit with candle light and dressed in flowers.  I willed myself to believe that my temple was truly clean.

Improvising the words, applying excuses to situations.  Keeping my temple clean.
Believing I was right and you knew nothing.  Keeping my temple clean.
Fighting ass backward beliefs, preserving an open mind.  Keeping my temple clean.

Realizing my unforgivable mistakes.  It wasn’t biased concern that filled your words with harsh realities and racism.  It was knowledge of the world beyond my years.  With loved ones to protect, no risk was the best type.  Leaving no room for questions, your rules were concrete as stone.

Consumed with guilt for the lack of faith.  My marble temple walls tainted in what can’t be lifted.  Scrubbing and remodeling, the facade chips off, revealing my scars.  Mistakes carved into the stone for everyone to see, stains that can’t be lifted or washed away clean.  Shame and ridicule taunts the air.  No one comes around to pray here.

Original: July 27, 2010