The Cure

 

It’s such a self-defeating ruse

To play the game of win and lose.

The human spirit’s subtlety

Defeats all games of strategy.

A life that seeks to “reach the goals”

Creates such gaping, tawdry holes.

At night you’ll wake in salted tears

Surrounded by repeating fears,

Until the day the grasping ends,

And then, see how your true heart mends.

A shoot, a bud, it rises sure.

The gentle way becomes the cure.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s