Poem # 6
I am old.
The beauty of that excuse gets you off the hook for life’s dilemma when it takes the soul for a test drive through the ragged road of recovery only to find a messy, mixed up place in the gut wanting to free itself of dogmatic dishonesties that crippled your actions and made you lose yourself to other’s beliefs and brought you to your knees in apologetic whispers too difficult to admit that you were trapped within your own creation until finally you were brave enough to admit defeat and let go of all unnecessary expectations put upon you by your ancestors. You are Old! Torn up inside with confused emotions of whys or why nots, wheres, hows and whens? Why not revel in the fact that you made it this far without much injury even though your mind and body have been ripped from all good society and exposed to the hate, love, light, dark, bliss, angst, and curdling screams of the young begging to be shown the way. Praise yourself for coming back to the real truth that you were made by God. You were made in the image of Light, Light, Light. You’ve come back to the light. You are yourself!!!
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