There's the chill of frost hovering in the air
so palpable yet expected. Silently putting you
in your place which is not within a coven
of group think. You've always shrunk from
from cliques and above all this very particular
platform of self-regarding sanctimony among
which you never felt yourself sharing anything
with those who possessed all the formulaic
incantations, proof-positive of their secure
positions within the group. They were your
community but not your crowd; exclusionary
exceptional, loyal to a convention you were
never steeped in. Yet by happenstance you
found yourself suddenly within the embrace
of the klatch and though unfamiliar there was
a pleasant warmth. 'Belonging' has that function.
Was it rebellion at the artifice and egotism
the impulse to reveal yourself with the thought
take me as I am? How could that be when
your subconscious volition spurned what
it is they most certainly are, conditioned by
faith to an instinctual aversion to what you are.
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