Perspective By Ron Porter
Oh?! ?How I used to sit and fret
lost in self-pity? ?,? ?and count the cost
wallowing in the misery of
the muck and mire of romances lost
How pathetic was my thinking
sinking in sorrow of yesterday
fearful of tomorrow,? ?full of lingering
pathos and pain of love cast away.
Sick to death of suffering?;
weary of wearing woebegone
I searched out the heavy hand of fate
and,? ?found that hand to be my own.
Examination,? ?of my behaviors
unfiltered by guilt and shame
revealed to me no fault to assign?;
left me with no one to blame.
In this world,? ?all is temporal
everything here will pass away
how arrogant to try to hold forever
what some don't find for even a day
How many pass through life,? ?with no love
from exiting womb to entering ground
Rather than mourn the loves I've lost,
I'll treasure the measure of love I found.
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