Friday, May 2, 2014

Seventy . . .

Perfect Temperance
by Stormcat

Welcome, sad spirit of the night, so familiar that
the sting of your visit is lost to tedious inefficacy.
Overwhelming numbness controls desiccating all
remnants of emotional relief,  even tears. So you,
sad spirit, lost even as I, must now wander this path,
my only companion, my only friend. Yes welcome!

The dreams of the sleepless are counterfeit; imbuing
no pleasure, evoking no comfort, relieving no distress.
Desire artificially contrives self serving sequence,
vision is lifeless, vague, full of gray or even, not at all.
Even the balm of meditation offers no relief to the
vastness of the desert of sorrow that is regret.

The one who has no regret has made no mistake
and the one who is without mistake, never attempted
anything but has also never succeeded and, therefore,
ultimately has failed at life. Mistake demonstrates the
courage to engage life.  Rebuke them not, for failure
and mistake are the trappings that litter true progress.

In selfishness I embrace you my companion, you
now in want of power, must endure my embrace,
observe my laugh in the face of your suicidal taunt
Sad spirit your life is vested only in my welcome
Your only recourse for survival lays my keeping you
as remembrance of my struggle and ultimate victory.

Presently reveling, sweetness of normalcy rebukes
any return to familiar habituated self indulgence.
Inane deprecation relinquishes responsibility but I
have no need of such justification having discovered
inherent omniscience granted to all, contingent only
ultimately on the willingness to recognize and accept.

So I progress to a higher plane of existence and take
you, sad spirit, as well as all other spirits, along; not
as baggage or melancholy fossils, but as motivators
exemplifying both the uniqueness and commonality
required to transcend barriers, embrace imperfection,
forgive everything, judge nothing, and Love.

Copyright 2014, All rights reserved

1 comment:

  1. "The dreams of the sleepless are counterfeit"....what a great line that is. This is a remarkable poem. It is a journey, truly, as one wanders the path of mistakes, regret, which turn to experience and the transcendence at the end, when the narrator realizes he is progressing ever upwards on his path. Knowing the incredibly beautiful and wild place you live in, I think you must look out your windows and be lifted simply by the view!!!!