By Tony DeLorger © 2012
Words imparted not from a sense of pride,
rather a sense of worth,
when worlds glitter from fools gold,
a seductive interpretation of value.
Grasping for self-worth,
we stumble to find place,
the solitude of the periphery,
too stark for acceptance, and too real for admission.
How prone we are to the sway of minds,
when they want nothing more than power,
and we want only recognition,
an acceptance of our true self.
The world is filled with givers and takers,
the givers want not the taking,
and the takers want everything,
despite the collateral damage.
A clean soul is a as pristine as the first snowfall,
unblemished by the manipulations of greed,
yet oppressed by the self importance
of the deluded righteous.
How prone we are to the moving herd,
the mindless followers of gain,
when all joy resides within the giving,
and the sanctity of love.
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