Greetings, I have come to talk about that thing which isn’t spirituality. Oh, how I dislike that term. To me it feels bland and obfuscating. It feels removed.
Spirituality is like an empty metaphor, it doesn’t add meaning, it doesn’t expose new understanding, it traps you in a pillow fort.
Poetry is a solid. It is a substantial and enveloping thing. Its landscape is ruggedly (sometimes terrifyingly) real.
It is a framework (sometimes self-built, sometimes discovered or received) that by its very nature encourages exploration.
Not so with spirituality. When someone says they’re “spiritual” what they’re revealing is the shame of metaphysical laziness.
But I didn’t come to grate fine gratings.
A thousand golden orbs explode behind your eyes and infinity fills the void.