Much That Is Left

My back hurts more from weighty vanity
Than from the burdens livelihood requires.
My soul aches more from my humanity
Than from ill answer to my base desires.
With fifty circles run in matter’s realm,
And dozens yet to come if fortune grants,
I see a new tide harshly overwhelm
The shore of egotism’s vast expanse.
I step aside now from the jumbled strife
While others jostle toward imagined joys.
My spirit sings the song of timeless life
And harbors safe the bliss that breath destroys.
   Some day my limbs will wobble as I stride;
   I’ll soar without them on the other side.

2 thoughts on “Much That Is Left

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