The Emperor of Self by Danil Rudoy

I

Addiction is a bag of bones
Attempting to disperse.
You own it all, but what you own’s
A shrinking universe.
It wraps you up, a magic gift,
And feeds it to the dark,
All while you think you live: adrift
And cold without a spark.

II

Your dreams are boring and disjoint;
Your reason is distraught;
And your attention’s focal point
Is smaller than a dot.
You keep your best self at arm’s length…
But down with entourage!
The physicality of strength
Is only a mirage.

III

Break through before you’ll know you’re beat!
Stop wobbling like a clown,
Efface the tower of conceit
And throw away its crown.
Don’t say “too late”: you’re breathing still.
And now is time to know:
No self-delusion ever will
Be worth its flashy show.

IV

Your petty scores are not a goal,
And when the fancy snaps
The gadgets promising control
Will alter into traps.
Don’t wait until your soul grows thin
But take it to the source.
Behold your soul and find within
The origin of force.

V

Emotions form a shaky ground,
A challenge to assuage,
So act, until the world around
Becomes an endless stage.
It’s bending, look! But, as it does,
Remember to release
Your self-importance and the fuzz
Of every dull caprice.

VI

And when you finish, take a bow.
Don’t mind the quondam pain:
Bring but the best and, with it, now
Rule over your domain.
Long live the king! You’ve won the game,
And all majestic wealth
Is justly yours as you became
The Emperor of Self.