The time will come, as sure it must,
When flesh and bones return to dust.
Ere this happens to mine state
I challenge life, what may await
Round corners I have yet to veer,
On roads and paths that I must steer
As true to self as I can be
While hurting none as best I see.
The trouble with my self-direction,
Modus operandus, introspection,
Is, I can’t see what acts I do
May taint the world for me and you.
I struggle on as blind man feels,
Alerting senses to what’s real,
Believing that my ripples cast
May count for something that could last
Into eternal consciousness
And, somehow, one day I’ll be blessed
By loving light that comforts soul,
Suffuses dark when all is told
In story of my life on earth,
That task completed had some worth.