I pray for those that have problems because
it could easily be me.
I have my share, to be sure, but for some reason I feel free--
Have I shunned responsibility, behaved erratically in my pursuit of pleasure?
Or is happiness not really a hidden treasure but always available for
I can still be a miserable sack, just ask my friends, temper flaring,
refusing to bend--
But that hasn't worked too well at keeping them.
I turn off the news, I need relief from
sad faces, children dying
Adult faces crying in remote corners of the world.
A heartbreak on every corner if you look, but also don't be afraid to
point out the good.
A jaded vision this way or that is no real way of looking at life --
Can you see things as they are?
That's an incredible skill, it takes being absolutely still --
Not judging the scent in advance of the wind
Amidst all the pain in the world lies the
Hint: It's not the sword.
A sword need not be metal, iron, or even sharp to
Wound, injure, or worse, damage the heart
Often it's a word, a damaging blow to the goal's one has erected.
By squelching hope you only serve those who grope for despair
While feeding ignorance through a prejudiced stare.
Yes, I have my problems, I certainly do--
I can be unloving, dispassionate, and unkind but
I'm no murderer, thief nor am I blind to power's arrogant way.
As I sit in my chair, I humbly pray for my own understanding of folks'
Their daily chores, the life quotidian on some distant shore
I can prevent the pain in my family, that's a start, by changing my own
Doing my part to be peaceful awake alive and of good cheer not counting
Or counting the coin -- or expecting others to follow my style.
I am just thankful to be on the planet,
though saddened when people suffer.
In large part it makes me tougher but not callous to the daunting task
Sweep God's earthly palace, bountiful chambers and halls, and yes, even
its dirty stalls.
I am a maker and doer, creator, lover --
This morning I realized I need to nurture my brothers
Who could use my assistance, wit, and compassion to fashion a life
Perhaps not devoid of strife, but at the very least free to make a choice
In their own sweet and singular voice about the direction they'd like