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Poem

Inside my heart a dark spirit dwells.
I have been through tribulation and hell.
It is over and the judgment is in.
I can still taste the cutting tang of gin.
My meandering spirit has been shut down.
(I fear my jury thinks me a sad clown.)

I reckoned the road was a good time friend,
Aimlessly I sought what I thought I'd find.
I found optimistic small town people,
Cynical and despondent city dwellers.
With each fork in the road would I find me?
One of the darkest places in the world,
Is inside your mind as you try to fit in.
Here, right in this place is where I belong,
Good-time Charlie's and bad-time Charlene's,
Soon had me on the road strangling on dust.

My train of thought brought me to where I am,
Like an old rusty freight train chugged to a stop.
The towns I had visited by on my way,
I never felt welcome for I had been wrong.
All the people I met, men and women,
Tried to love what I was but I knew not love.
The miles I walked, taking this and that turn,
Anxiously awaiting until I found . . . myself.
Suddenly I was struck with the thought so rare,
That what I was chasing was already there.

I wait for the verdict to be read now.
Maybe I can smoke, if they will allow.
The old greybeard looks my way and declares,
You must go back to earth, your life repair.
My prayers are answered I know what to do,
Correct my sins for my new life's debut.

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