The Gift of Authenticity

This poem is dedicated to you who dare to live authentically. The truth is that you're going to be judged, whether you live on your own terms or on other people's. You can listen to the crowd, or listen to your soul, and be at your own stage.

Their Shadows

In the court of whispers, verdicts are cast,

Whether you bend or stand steadfast;

Rain of labels, cold and fraught,

Masks of envy that fester and gloat.

Each slur they sling is a mirrored cry,

A fear of the shadow they refuse to unite;

They'll call you "shy!" - your silence a crime,

While your soul dances in rhythms untimed.

"Aloof!" they'll jeer, at the pride in your spine,

But boundary is your energy made divine;

"Weak!" they'll spit, if you sidestep their war,

Though peace is an ocean no tempest can gnaw.

"Obsessed!" they'll snarl, as your passions take flight,

Blind to the fire that ignites your night;

"Loner!" they'll scorn, your solace and ease,

As if self-communion need to be appeased.

"Weird!" for the paths where your footprints twist,

"Lost!" for not chasing their hollow parade;

"Ugly!" for imperfection they're too frail to face,

"Disloyal!" for leaving their toxic embrace.

"Rude!" for not keeping the truths disguised,

"Wrong!" for the beliefs that colour your skies;

"Dumb!" if your wisdom don't fit into their script,

"Crazy!" for daring to live where they've clipped.

Yet know their barbs are but shadows they flee,

The parts they've buried, the truths they can't see;

In you, they glimpse what they've cast aside,

A mirror of selves they've locked deep inside.

So let them crown you with titles they spin,

Each stinging word exposes the void within;

For the world will bark, but its voice grows dim,

When you answer to none but the fire within.

And as you walk, unbound and whole,

You'll see their shadows yearn to be told;

For only in light, where darkness is known,

Can the fractured soul reclaim its throne!