The Way of Love
I write this poem and every other poem, to hold my seething resentment and to teach me the way of love. My soul rages at injustice, though the greatest injustice I’ve suffered was an unfaithful wife who took more than she gave. Even so, I’m mad as hell. Yet there’s no one to forgive but myself for being born with such a wonderful view near the top of pharaoh’s pyramid, and for not knowing personally the expectation tomorrow will be worse. The greatest gift I’ve been given is the privilege to fail, and the grace to create myself anew, covered in the primordial mud of life.
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