The peace one is seeking is already inside, in the harmonious functioning of the body
A light that shines so very bright
that turns to day the darkest night
burns deep inside what I call mine;
no thought has it to tow the line.
It seems somehow I can connect
with one not wayward or correct,
but driven onward to survive,
to reproduce and stay alive.
How is it that things go astray?
What emptiness is there at play
that draws me to wish and take stock,
to strike out and to run amok;
to rein in one that was born free,
to halt the gallop, blind to see?
Its movement leaves me far behind
midst cold illusions, man defined.
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Many things come naturally to those that never seek them, and as far as poetry – you’re a natural 8^P
Thanks, Bob. I hereby upgrade you to above “Average” 🙂