diogenes

The streets are filled with promises,
neon lights selling salvation
in a bottle, a bed, a brief flicker
of comfort.

we crawl,
grasping at the edges of soft sofas,
lining our pockets with empty dreams.
dependence, they say, on these
creature comforts,
is our freedom.

but Diogenes knew better.
barefoot on the cold, hard earth,
he smiled at the absurdity of it all,
rejecting the gold chains
of comfort and ease.

he was rich,
not in coins or castles,
but in the wealth of knowing
that simplicity
is the heart of happiness.

the less you own,
the less you’re owned,
he said, and I see it now,
in the mirror,
in the clutter of my life.

material pleasures,
they dull the edges,
but never sharpen the mind.
we are slaves,
chained to our desires,
our well-being tethered to
the next purchase,
the next thrill.

Diogenes lived in a barrel,
but he was free.
he laughed at the kings
and their gilded cages,
finding joy in the bare bones
of existence.

there is strength in simplicity,
resilience in restraint,
freedom in the space
between wants.
detach, he whispered,
from the world’s weight,
find peace in the silence,
satisfaction in the self.

happiness is not what you hold
but how you hold it,
not outside your skin
but within.

so, here’s to Diogenes,
the wise fool,
walking through the fire
with nothing but his wits,
teaching us to live
without the crutch of comfort,
to stand tall
in the face of our desires,
to find the true wealth
in the depth of our hearts,
and the simplicity
of being.