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.