I am a monk, a devotee of inner peace,
and life is simplicity, as close as I can get to it,
my conscious mind in reverence to life,
my prayers to that inner divinity,
a passage of cleansing I abide,
and my time in God’s grace,
writing from a soul, open to sharing.
I struggled to be other people,
husband, father, worker, citizen,
yet all in welcomed responsibility,
left me short of who I am,
and that conundrum was solved by poetry,
a stream of truth from a soul wanting:
and so I am a monk.
I live in silence, I live in thought,
I strive for beauty’s embrace in all I see
and so I sate, leaving no stone unturned,
and write my blood upon a page
regardless of implications of my stage of life,
to pacify all that I could not right,
all I could not forsake.
I explore the journey, the eternity of my soul,
past and future whole,
and learn the flaws that sought
to undermine myself, and more,
when I lived in the human world of lies,
the illusions that so corrupt life at the brink,
now I am an observer.
I am apart yet still walk the streets,
another perspective drives my sight,
a light not known before,
as life and I restore a common ground,
so I may be who I am without the sham of covert life,
instead I am rife with human life
yet a monk in quiet repose.
Hiding infers being removed
from something or someone,
yet I do not, simply choose serenity of heart,
and connections only with kind souls as I in flight,
to uplift this plight of silence,
this devotion to higher thoughts;
yes, I finally accept, I am a monk of sorts.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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