expatriate

Live for something, have a purpose,/And that purpose keep in view;
Drifting like a helmless vessel,/Thou canst ne'er to life be true.—James Allen


i used to think life was so easy
i could do all the things that please me.
i stepped on everyone
and simply moved along;
life was for me alone,
knowing not how right viewed wrong.
mercy and love—now what could these be,
except invented just to cheese me?

i was an island in the ocean,
soon isolated by the notion
that all revolved around
my seasons in the sun.
no shadow on the ground
spared i to leave undone
till, overcome by dark emotion,
i sought, from trees and rocks, devotion.

today, i am expatriated
beyond the gates where i have hated,
humility the cloak
that shields me from my dirt;
where pride once made me choke,
compassion stands alert.
to live for others is my purpose,
and to be loved, my moral surplus.

© Copyright 2020 October 01
by Clyve A. Bowen♫