Wendy Miller Poet I do not know?

Bitter Sweet

There comes a point in time where we realize that no matter what we do to keep our scales in 
balance and our blinders from hindering our perpetual view, we will always be reprimanded for 
our strenuous and sometimes penal efforts to keep the disposition.

To keep the fruits of our labor from falling into this apparent self-inflicted despair, we sacrifice 
our habitual manners to appease our rivals.  Known all to well to these like-minded souls, our 
doings continue to go unseen in the true light of its nature and is often mistaken for mindless, 
irrational and spiteful play of brutality.

It is prophesied that this chain will unravel with the likeliness of a whips painful, yet deserving 
impact.  Scars to which will serve as a severe reminder on the roads never to travel again.  

Roses to the senses, are a powerful source, but never perceive that their beauty remains 
without a painful price of their even more bearing thorns.

We strive for many things throughout our lifetime, but not one of those ambitions should ever 
include or even be limited to the unwillingness to be in complete and utter felicity.

If the only thing that has ever remained constant was change in itself....then why do we spend 
so much extravagant effort in keeping anything just the way it began?

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