As Journeys Go

As he came his way to be,

Wading through amidst his sea,

This sea of which swallows he.

This wading when asked he’ll say “Tis’ nothing like any other day”,

When though inside he knows is draining,

He’ll say, “My lot I chose, my lot I’ll keep.”

When in his soul this lot it reaps,

Reaps a burden that he may not see,

Burden which blinds him from seeing me.

Seeing from one eye to another,

A fair gaze brings noth’ but stutter,

Stutter which in blind denial,

Brings his own death by guile.

Blinding him from the self,

He suffers on, denying cry for help.

Then in time and weary journeying…

As his mind and heart came to me,

So ever did he slowly see,

See the heart that in youth was molded,

By circumstance and predestiny.

Predisposed to be wrapped in chains,

Yet in time would he free be,

Free to see the man he had come to be.

And this freedom done by endeavor,

But upon his sight,

So ever did he shutter.

Shuttering at the creation that is now been,

Though with fear of self, did he muster.

Mustering the strength to change circumstance,

And in this did his angels dance,

Celebrating at this new found circumstance.

Though in these times he felt not to celebrate,

“Work is to be done, and all too late.”

In new found self-knowledge his mind found weary,

Weary of the floodgates opened.

Now going, his journey of ceaseless self-mastery,

“For to master the self is a sure way to victory.”

So on he goes battling wiles,

All the moment crushing Devil’s guile.

And on he goes, never ceasing,

For to give up and say nay to the fight,

Is surely nothing but the Enemy’s pleading.