I resolved not to think too much of things (not all things); at least not about me. But, somehow, I seem to backtrack and wind up thinking about me, myself and stupid ol' I, and people and things that I chanced to cross path with. Some bring gladness, while a good number tears my heart to smithereens. And I still pick up the pieces to this day. When I think about what goes on in my life, there is quite a certainty that I would delve into that deep and dark corner of my own self, where torments and all the pain that sorrow knows are doled out by the dozen. When this does happen I find myself hiding away to the obscurity of my soul, where the heart boils over with pain and agony. The hidden secrets that torment and cripple the very spirit that is inside the shell of a man, though never pronounced to earshot of none, yet very devastating for the bearer. Must I forge on with the load of guilt, with a heart of vengeance that lingers, and the emotional separation or a total absence from it? A man can no longer judge the fruitlessness, nor can he make a choice over the state he yearns to be in. My acumen seems invalid. If this be the portion I have been priced to pay, if this be the lot I have been assigned by the Master, so be it. I accept.
No comments:
Post a Comment