Yeah.

Keep your eyes open.

The mask slips when they think nobody of importance is watching.

But everyone is important.

That’s the cosmic joke.

(Trippy Trek)

Watch the hands.

I’m sitting in the corner booth observing the social dynamic

A study in the ego, panic hidden in the ceramic

Smiles for the investors, the gestures are polished and grand

Shaking the CEO’s hand, executing the brand plan

He’s a charmer, a disarmer, wearing success like a suit

Cultivating the image, harvesting the forbidden fruit

But then the busboy spills a drop of water on the cuff

And the phantom facade fades, the demeanor gets rough

The tone shifts, the drift is cold, arctic and old

Berating the kid for a mistake that cannot be controlled

He kicks the dog because he can’t bite the master

A classic disaster, a spiritual plaster casting a caster

Of judgment on those he deems beneath his station

A pathetic display of a fragile foundation

You kiss the boot above you and stomp on the neck below

That’s the ugliest rhythm that a spirit can ever show.

You want the measure of the man? Don’t look at the peer

Look at how he treats the ones living in fear

Does he offer a hand or a heavy command?

When he’s talking to the servant, does he understand?

That the hierarchy is a lie, a slide in the mud

We all bleed the same color of heavy red blood

Don't look at the handshake with the equal in the room

Look at how he sweeps the dust with the human broom.

The caste system is a hologram, a sham for the weak

My third eye interprets the silence the downtrodden speak

I don't need to dose to diagnose the necrosis of soul

When a man needs a victim just to feel he is whole

The janitor holds more divinity in his callous

Than the king sitting pretty in the crystal palace

It’s a balance of atoms, carbon dating the arrogance

There is no variance in the grave, no inheritence

Of status, the lattice of power is brittle as bone

We are all just consciousness renting a temporary zone

So when you bark at the barista, you barking at God

Playing the fraud, a lightning rod for the squad

Of karmic debt collectors, inspectors of the heart

Tearing the superficial superiority apart

I see the interconnectedness, the mycelial thread

The waiter you insulted is the one who keeps you fed.

It’s the ultimate litmus test.

Power reveals.

Absolute power reveals absolutely everything.

If you need someone to be small so you can feel tall...

You’re a midget in the spirit realm.

Shrinking.

Shrinking.

I strip away the titles, the bank accounts, the deeds

And look at the garden to see who is watering the weeds

True nobility is humility in the face of the less

Not impressing the guest with the fancy address

I’ve seen shamans in rags and demons in silk

I’ve seen poison served up as the mother’s milk

So keep your accolades, your parades and your charades

I’m watching the interaction in the subtle shades

How you treat the unseen, the unclean, the machine

Operators, the waiters, the ones in between

That’s the resume, the heavy play, the judgment day

Everything else is just a role that you’re paid to play

Trippy Trek, I respect the janitor more than the boss

If the boss has lost the concept of the human cost

The hierarchy dissolves when the perspective is wide

There is no inferior, just the ego trying to hide.

Yeah.

Check yourself.

Before you wreck your karma.

We are all equals.

Or we are all nothing.

Pick one.

Service is sovereignty.