All I give, and all I receive,
is the causation of what I believe,
and whatever complaints I contrive,
is my misjudgment, in my struggle to survive,
for I am imperfect, an enigma, unique,
but really there is no real mystique,
just the cause and effect of my beliefs.
My disapproval is heard by no-one,
for the buck stops here and I am alone,
the purveyor of kindness,
the vent-er of misguided rage,
all of these circumstances in my very own cage,
the walls and misfortunes I alone create,
from my slow learning mind.
Blame is my defense,
irresponsibility my offence,
blindly striving for betterment
under a guise that is self-evident,
for as long as self holds the wheel,
as long as ego gives meaning and steals life away,
the soul remains still,
blinded to the light that instills a better way.
Tis I that fail, tis I left wanting,
and blame is the whining of ignorance,
stomping up and down as a child,
when deprived we are of what we want,
and no amount of words can change our status,
until we can become selfless
and take responsibility for all our thoughts and actions,
and in humility seek light.
The path is long and arduous,
filled with pain and parlous moments,
that like scars adorn our flesh,
remind us what’s at stake and what is left,
to heal our lives and not be bereft of love,
our one saving grace,
our guide to selfless thoughts and peace
and the happiness we are afforded.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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