What itches can’t always be scratched,
what’s laid can’t always be hatched,
and the distance between sight and reality
is enough to question causality,
our perceptions so unevenly matched.
What goes up must come down,
what is voiced must resound,
and even if deaf, and in life quite bereft,
that apple will still hit you on the head
on its way down.
What is imagined must be doable,
what is feared must be plausible,
but fearing your dreams
is like splitting your seams,
and crossing the streams, deplorable.
What is taken is not always given,
what is given is often mistaken,
but without giving no grasp of receiving,
and living is imbalance,
the flow of a preposterous deceiving.
What is spent is a result of earning,
gathering a path of discerning,
and without accumulation
their can be no redistribution
and economy a cycle of learning.
What’s lost is a valuable lesson,
what is learned the pain of misgivings,
having suffered the indignity
of being stripped by complicity
for blaming a world of delusion.
What is purely simple an enigma,
from a mind ill-tempered and in stigma,
for complexity we follow,
thinking its delivery beneficial,
when truly we miss what’s important.
What’s right is often a ruse,
what’s wrong the product of suit,
and conjecture our ramblings,
when truth is withstanding,
and popular the morality construed.
Tony DeLorger © 2018