The Ration of Passion

Poetry flower

It starts when we’re 4 or 5,

The learning of how to survive,

In a world of business and power,

Where few ever explore the flower.


And then when we’re 8 or 9,

We realize that we have a spine,

But relentless is the pressure to conform,

And we hope that we can transform.


Around the time of a teen,

We learn we must have self-esteem,

But only if we work, as forewarned,

Toward the conventions of society’s norm.


We want so badly to be “good,”

And do what we know we should,

But lost in the drive for power,

Is the soul’s last hopeful tower.


So, off to work we go,

Hoping our soul will learn to know,

A new sense of self and love,

But, it merely goes on like an ill-fitting glove.


It isn’t who we truly are,

Like putting a cloud in a race car,

And finally we realize our error,

And the all-engulfing time terror.


So, we finally engage the fear

And learn to trust in what’s clear

And work on our heart’s dream

To fuel our innermost seam.


And to the world of conformity

We say, “Following you is deformity.”

For us to be His chosen

We yield to a life less frozen.


Monday’s Post: Word of the Week: What did you think campestral meant?



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This entry was posted on Saturday, February 16th, 2013 at 6:55 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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