Do You Know Who I Am?

In the hallowed world of celebrity where the Chosen 

are social arbiter, high priest/ess and life-guide, those 

whose profundities of their very own special truth so

sacred no questions need be asked for authentication for 

there can be no doubt expressed, their most sincere grasp

of the dignity of self and perceptions beyond the ken 

of those mere mortals who swear allegiance to the

glittering royalty of their alternative reality. This is the 

world where the passions of victimhood are crowned with

a penumbra of sacred trust when they passionately speak 

of their frailties and sensitivities tugging at heartstrings 

relinquishing the guise however temporarily of power 

in the interests of evoking compassion paired with outrage 

against transgressives inciting the faithful to accuse the 

spuriously named revealed with the dark aura of Truth. 

Those existing outside the golden circle of celebrity 

wokeness need not apply for empathy much less point 

out the utter absurdity of acrimonious claims they are 

guilty of the cardinal sin of withholding adoration of 

the Chosen whose arch displays of grace, beauty and 

wisdom evoke disinterest, leaving the thespian spurned 

and dangerously spiteful. The opportunity to extend 

the gallery of attendance in claims grave enough to shock 

that wide audience of royal-watchers and celebrities alike 

while plaintively afterward accusing the accused of 

failing to fall to their wounded knees in penance

finally recognizing the spirit of exalted presence, the

oversight condemning them to the status of nonentities.