Friday, October 25, 2013


I stand a silent worshipper
Of the setting sun

Content in my discontent
Deeds left undone
Justified by procrastinator’s creed
“There’s always tomorrow”

Happy to be punished
By wind whipped sand
Flogged by unseen cat-of-nine
Pain, life’s elixir

Pain to justify my failure
Though of what and when
I failed
I’m unsure
Still it’s easier
To punish yourself
Than leave it up to God

It is the anticipation of punishment
That’s half the delight
Though of which half I am uncertain
And whether it is the punishor or punishee
Who has the most delight
I don’t like to ponder

As for me
Unmoved by
Anticipation and delight
I prefer the immediacy of guilt

Mind, sand blasted
The minutiae of failure
Whipped about

What will atone?
What will I confess to buy my peace?

Perhaps I did not fail
Perhaps failure is more a mind set
Than a fact

As the sun declines
Its final rays, slipping
Kiss me

And I am content
Though at peace I doubt
Still, there is always


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