the euphoria

We chase the sky,
hoping to find a high that
matches the hunger within
us, we inject ourselves with
the next dose of desire,
a bitter, fleeting rush
that never fills the hollow 

the mask of satisfaction—
a seconf skin but beneath it,
emptiness fills
sifting through the hours
with greedy sense,
pounding for more
in the distorted reflection
of mirrors, the masters

cupidity a fire that burns,
consumes,
and leaves behind nothing
but ashes
anger stirs, greed spreads like
wildfire, chokes our chests with
smoke and still,
we press forward,
filling the void
with plastic wings we
never needed

what if we stopped
what if we turned inward,
and sought a high that
does not fade
a permanent peace, 
unbroken by time’s passing
or the noise of the world

if we knew the Self,
beyond the ego’s lies,
beyond the stories of 
chasing we tell ourselves—
what would we find
that it never ever absent
from us, it was there like
a stillness that doesn’t burn,
a light that never dims
a fulfillment that is whole,
a love that is pure,
for good, and in that,
perhaps, we would finally
understand that the euphoria
we’ve been seeking
was always present within