The Age of Authenticity

The Age of Authenticity

By Maya Luna

It’s 2020 
We are no longer trading in our soul 
For the allure of money
The seduction of fame
The euphoric fantasies of intoxicated love 

We see the game
The jig is up 

We no longer chase the carrot
That never nourishes our hunger
We no longer seek the shiny package
With a rotten hollow core 

We are done letting shame fuel our hunger
For unattainable perfection 
We no longer believe the lies 
Of the polished perfect ones

The mask is slipping 
We know the script 
The emperor has no 
Clothes

We no longer believe our will 
Is God 
We are no longer satisfied with the sickly taste 
Of sweetness
Delivered with a grimace 
Shaped like a smile
We are ready to feast on the fruit 
Of the Real
We are returning
To innocence 

We are bored with corrupt systems 
That seek to cut out our heart 
In exchange for a dead performance 
We are no longer charmed by the 
Siphoning of our essence 
In exchange for a bad deal 

We no longer color inside the lines
We delight in making mistakes
We are rapturous in our play 
We allow the unfolding to be a 
Revelation
The Mystery is our guru 
The unformed Rose is our muse

We are done with the trance of 
The illusion of control 
We are learning how to dance
With the spontaneous arising 
Of this holy moment 
We know longer need to know 
We are in love with our 
Unknowing

We are inhabiting our imperfections
We are letting the body lead
We are listening 
We are receiving 
We are letting grace have its way
We are submitting to the sublime in the 
Ordinary 
We are remembering we are 
Beautiful 
We are discovering what Beauty 
Is

We are Finding 
We are Being 
We are no longer serious 
In our Seeking 
We seek like children 
Playing games 
For fun 

We are delighting in being 
Found 
We are drinking the nectar 
Of our own presence
We are letting God break in

We no longer run away 
From the haunting void 
We are no longer attempting to 
Fill it, Stuff it or Hide it away
We are falling into the emptiness
We are finding fullness here
We are coming home

The jig is up
We recognize the illusion of glamour 
The twisted sickness of false promises 
The cruelty of fixing 
What was never broken 

We have no hope for perfection 
We seek the vastness of humility 
The infinite in the small 
We are drunk with sober 
Faith 
We are living off the breath 
Of truth 
Radically available 
Merciful in its abundance

We are finished earning love
We are done chasing the
Dream 

The jig is up
The game is tired 
Played out 
We are letting ourselves have it All 
We are experiencing fulfillment  
Without ever leaving ourselves 
Again 

We are tired of being rigid 
We find ecstasy in the supple
We are learning to make love

Limitation is our Sanctuary 
The Simple Heart is our Refuge 

We are burning the map 
We are dancing on the ashes 
We are moving from 
Fullness
We are delighting in stillness
We are learning to walk 
With eyes closed 

We are no longer waiting 
For life to begin 
We are finally free
To live