A Fan of Elevation


When all is in gloom

How can there possibly be room

For light?

How can you see when all is dark?

When all around you is veiled in full mourning?

Take off your blindfold and observe, observe what is around you.

For you may feel as worn out as a carpet, endlessly stepped on.

As broken as the plates when Greeks celebrate.

For you are at your lowest low.

Oh so miserable.

The depressed and repressed Miserabilist. The philosopher of all pessimism.

Spreading your disease of philosophies, knocks the life out of all living things.

Why not enter the shoes that walk around obliviously?

Trample on a rug, it will hold no grudge.

Drink ouzo, and dance, feel the soul of music hypnotizing you in trance.

In the moment of ecstasy, you may break plate after plate,

Yet, nothing in their substance leaves room for hate.

Rather than lamenting your lack

Wrap action around your back.

Challenge your lowest low to a battle with your highest high.

Feel the standing ovation inside, routing for the strongest competitor.

Devote yourself to becoming elevation’s number one fan.

Become obsessed, purchase all of it’s accessories.

Positivity. Merit. Completion too.

Cheer it on. and on. and on.

Promote it’s slogan confidently,

Shout it out loud for all opponents to hear,

“When the sun shines bright

The night trembles with fright.

Only light, light, light.”

© Nicoletta

If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…

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