By Tony DeLorger © 2012
Despite pleas from a relentless mind,
I forge a path where angels hide,
unwilling to see the darkness crossed,
unable to accept a soul so lost.
When transfixed within and focus taken,
reality surges yet forlorn, mistaken,
peripheral plays of human passing,
confused in blurs of senseless masking.
Crowded rooms of thoughts aloft,
not pinned or taken or explored, just lost,
censored views of self refuse,
to admit the limits of self-abuse.
The world awaits an open mind,
beyond the tempest of 'I' sublime,
to gain perspective of our complex paths,
and free those chains of contentious past.
When self alone does strike at life,
incumbent the cost and seeds of strife,
and in blindness from our wilful sight,
the pain of consequence befalls our might.
No master self can carry right,
without a love to dignify,
and wield impassioned selfless care,
beyond our will, compassion rare.
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