The tempest pounds upon our door, locked,
hoping for reprieve, an overlooking,
and live we do on the edge of gloom,
the burden of our days,
the disarray and conflict our constant companion,
our fears so poignantly aroused,
espoused in a constant mind-numbing affray.
Fear is propagated, heightened
in an avalanche of propaganda,
indisposed to conspiracy threats, amassed,
to wars that let us know our dispensable being,
but pawns in a global race for control,
none of which is ours to change,
for we are the unknowns.
So many storms, so little sun,
the world spinning on borrowed time,
and while few thrive on unimaginable wealth,
the rest just slip further into debt,
the cycles we are taught as paradigms,
distract us from the truths,
so twisted and maligned.
To eke out a life of meaning,
we must detach from the cycles of striving and debt,
to find ourselves at core, who we are,
not drones to the slave masters and the lives they set,
but spiritual beings who decide
that love and compassion better enriches life,
not homes and cars and competitive strife.
The storms will not abate,
for that is the ways of many in life,
yet we need not follow,
instead find peace in our own hollow life,
filled with not possessions but love,
and to that end,
life has meaning, purpose and always hope.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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