the known life.

was mine a known life, or an examined one?

in the midst of the high, and the company of the castes,

would i in former company mop my lips in speech?

or would i in the latter sputter even venom,

and in my faith would i profess to the meek and divine,

and in the wings of a belle change my stance?



would i ascertain comical lies to fit in their panache,

then ask of them to raise their standards ere my distinguishes?

or the eloquence of words in articulation differ,

being articulate for the examined and mine own in my life,

and run in the envelop of pitch mist for recognition,

while shun in noble light for my self-freedom?



would my confidence in the purists falter a mild artificial?

then regain immortal self-esteem where pundits discourse?

or entirely ricochet up my dress for the examined,

and in equal measure fidget in comfort in my grim continuance?

would an opined debacle ostracize my inherent sense?

then approve of my principles when it matters not?



for that is my worth, and my true identity.

in mere inevitable heighties, where my name is not pronounced.

do i know you? hardly a minute in our ambiance encounter.

then i hope to have the courage, and from my guardian strength i seek,

to look in the eye, my chin in the stars, and eyes to the skies,

then reply with true and staunch conviction:

'my being is not perturbed, neither is my soul excruciating



then to walk away, knowing that i know mine.

that mine is a known, not an examined existence.'