By Tony DeLorger © 2012
Stealthily I traverse the rugged inner sanctum of my periphery,
the crusted remnants of past disharmony and pain,
seeking the key to me, the essence of what and who I am.
In dreams I delve the depths of a lucid mind,
a mind attuned to the change of growth and discovery,
a mind willing to endure the suffering of realisation.
Pieces in evidence, like a scattered puzzle,
drive me to unknown places,
where conclusions are the stuff of fools.
Only in the silence of retrospect,
have I grasped my own twisting and turning,
my own reticence and denial to face pain alone.
So often fear has led me to the stagnation of complacency,
rather than an abiding truth written in black ink
on the pristine canvas of reality.
With slight of hand I have abused myself,
accepted delusion as a righteous path,
when all along truth glared at me from the shadows,
biding time in earnest of an immersion of light.
And I, too arrogant to relent,
have taken the low road and caused pain and suffering as a consequence,
given myself the short straw,
defiantly a quest of enlightenment at cost.
In thoughts, I collect the pieces of me,
the valid and recognisable traits of a being living in hope,
desperately trying to accept the ineptitudes of imperfection.
My guide, the ramifications of my steps,
the clear and present outcomes of a learning soul,
a soul in acceptance of a reality that so often bites with ferocity.
For wherever I am, whatever I do,
I am a fledgling, a downy feathered possibility,
forever learning who I am.