Every Broken Man

Every broken man is in search of a new spirit
Whether or not he recognizes it or not, he seeks
A purified river to wash away his sins
His company is no one but shadows
Reflections of the past and prior wrongdoings
The long face of the bright, full moon
Looks down upon him in honest affinity
With silent recognition, he sees time
Etched upon its pockmarks and scars
From a storm-brinking, sullen beach, he sees
Across the far reaches of the dark sea
A near-distant future, his to hope and to own
But even the sanctity of his own forgiveness
Which alone holds his true resurrection
Cannot dispel the ghosts in his now lightless soul
The night that fires aflame his scorched earth

M.M.

"There is no Great Truth"

There is no Great Truth other than that which constructs the infrastructure of your being. What you are is a reflection of what you choose to do, what in your heart of hearts you truly believe or want. Whether by determinism or by unfettered free will, there is a responsibility to account for, to own up to. Everything that comes to pass is a lesson that instructs you on what kinds of fibers constitute you: A facing up to the darkness within you or appreciation of your implicit privileges. Life marked out is an anthology of pain and joy, and how we were gauged at a given time. But at the end of the day, it is strife that drives us onward. For if nothing else, strife is the most essential ingredient of a dynamic life, and the reaction to it the mainstay of your development, or lack thereof.

29

The sunsets are just a bit different now
Not quite the golden-yellow and fiery-red of yesteryears
Every choice is made with tints of lackluster
Hints of creeping uncertainty and apathy

Perhaps once the path was certain and
The direction a simple matter of "one foot in front of the other"
But why all this hollowness? and why the listlessness?
Where is the excitement that once threw your imagination
From one end of the galaxy to the other?

The best-laid plans have been lost somewhere in the stack

Maybe this is just a temporary deviation?
A steering off the path? some stroll through the thicket?
Those wanderings you once made in the dead of night
Long to be returned to; the cosmic flights through mind
And dream have been ready for departure for a short eternity

The center—once again you need to calibrate to your center
To that place which you alone can perceive
The best of you—the best part of you
The boundless nexus of all that makes you you

M.M.