Introspection
When it comes to a crunch, what’s our emote,
in as do we go with love or with hate,
for with latter we sink, with former float,
thus determining on earth our soul’s fate?
How may our reflex response be refined,
if we be as yet enslaved by ego,
distanced from God, not quite divine aligned,
feral instincts exchanging blow for blow?
The heart centre’s difficult to unblock,
since we are so addicted to thinking,
that we’re truly afraid to walk the talk
of what conscience says, the truth unblinking.
Be this as it may, we can always choose
without excuse, the flavour of heart’s muse.
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