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Contrite

 

 

I'm supposed to sleep now,

right, how?

One single stone of such irrefutably

inferior quality

built into anything worthy

can destroy the entire entity.

Thus the feeling of humility

casts immediately

its necessity

upon me. 

Strength and weakness

trade places

and righteousness

becomes iniquity,

Anger in its fury

destroys in seconds any everlasting beauty,

that ever had a chance to be.

The contrasting images I see

are like slow motion as the hope and dream are suddenly so distant

dashed in an instant.

What else is left to feel,

beware, this is real,

contrite is right. 

Remorse,

of course

but what of bliss,

gone the vestiges of harmony,

stop stop, here an excuse,

an explanation of abuse,

say what, are you kidding me,

such is not the way that I can be,

no, this which is is within me,

therefore the why is not a plea,

innocent because I have the right to feel this way,

that is not ok. 

What is the source of this contrite spirit which dwells in me now,

consider it's opponent, it's polar opposite and how

Pride on one side seems to rise above

even the strongest love,

love is not strong because of pride,

nor should such feelings be inside

of anything worth being in,

pride is sin

and will not win

if contrition can begin. 

A conscience thought

a feeling wrought

with such emotion rarely sought,

wrings its might upon my heart,

it's there the healing has to start,

what a fool what an ass am I,

to have even cast an eye

at thinking it would slide on by,

such torment I begin to cry.

So unworthy so unjust

gone the faith, away with trust,

just an instant all it takes

to cause such pain that the heart breaks,

How could such be

the who in me,

what was it that I didn't see,

can there ever be,

forgiveness in your heart for me? 

Of such I ask, of that I pray,

somehow some way

to find sufficient words to say,

I'm sorry how I was today..
David Dobbins July, 2013
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