My nature is not receptive to fame
For it impinges upon a need
Far more persuasive than praise
The need to create in solitude
Under the syncopated directives
Of a diabolically reticent heart
*
I have no interest in wealth
For within its ornate trappings
I would likely find ingratitude
Death would thrust his bony fingers
Between my ribs and arrest all pursuit
Being idle, the Devil would surely
Shrink my hands into obdurate fists
Better to earn than to expect
*
I will not deny love
For love is indeed worth sacrifice
But if by another’s insistence
I did change, resentment would
Arise and with it suspicion
Why am I not good enough?
What credentials have you
To determine my life
When we can not
The same destiny possess?
*
My moods are capricious
And easily spent
I have a cache of masks and scripts
That I might,
A seemingly different man make
In truth each role
Is but another incarnation
Of a self-serving orchestrator (ego)
For on the stage
I only partially exist
*
The soul
In heaven’s image remains
It is the ego
That through acceptance
One may change
Create not harems
Of delusion or avarice
Create not prisons
Of preference or prejudice,
Regard only what is
That you may express
Unobstructed
The divinity within
*
This is my response to Sunday’s prompt which is: “What can change the nature of a man?”
mindlovemisery 