Cult of Comfortability

I find comfort in the uncomfortable

Because I understand the complacency of comfort.

Blind eyes turning away from injustices

Blind eyes lie for if blind, why turn away?

Deaf ears cover themselves

To drown out the stirring.

A waking nation of souls not chained to the untruth truths of history

I find comfort in traversing the unknown

For if we only consume what is given to us

We will soon starve from the lack of

Independency needed to survive.

History is written by those unafraid to be uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable in their retailoring of a history that on the surface

Dresses-up their ancestors, A fable fitting nicely around the neck

An emblem tied as tight as a noose. Yet they look extremely comfortable.

When in truth it was the uncomfortable fate of others who

Granted the comforts so many depend on today.

I do not depend on the questionable past

Or the unseen future for my comfort

The gift of comfort is found in the presence of the present

When I am quiet and looking within

To discover the mysteries of the universe.

Understanding that universal comfort is only

A thought, a heartbeat, a breath away.

I find comfort in the uncomfortable.