Our Stupor
Life not quite simply black and white, my friend.
We wear many hats, chosen at random,
sometimes a saint, at other times a fiend,
as sways fickle attention pendulum,
with unconditional love shown seldom.
Plodding through life, like a dead man walking,
seeing not ego, silently stalking,
we suffer because we choose to suffer,
blocking divine light, within heart glowing,
gift of life ruined in frivolous caper.
03-April-2021
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