The mystic

In as much as we ponder, the institution of life,
are we not all enslaved?
Fathers to daughters, wives to the man,
children to their clan?
Is life this simple, the doves so serene?
And a sunset so placid, our lives
so distant from this cunning beauty?
What really counts, and what skates by
The righteous, those who trample all that we do
In the name of some God
We all need be indebted to
Struggle as we may
It’s in our face, a constant,
A human quest? No spiritual,
Insistent they are with this.
A higher Power must intervene!
Lest you be lost, hopeless, and independent.
Like a fool... Dreams
Dreams you had, abandon them now
That’s prideful thinking
And its end? A ruse…
Come now and blend, with our thinking
Bring yourself down to our level.
Turning it over to a higher rule…
And loose yourself in the redemption
Promised from God himself!
The ultimate deception…

Tom Walsh

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