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.

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