“We shoot ourselves in our own feet and then admire our own marksmanship.”
-Brian Tracy
“Our great problem is not that we feel we are powerless, but deep down inside we feel that we are powerful beyond measure.”
– Nelson Mandela in his talk to the Nobel Prize Committee when he received his prize
“We live, habitually, well within our powers.”
– William James
Focusing inward, the lines blur
Double vision distorting words
Amplify subtleties, growing the hurt
Time and space collide with fate;
Future fades in misdirection.
Judgement, fear and self-rejection,
Projected by your own reflection,
The inner voice vituperates.
Fear begins the soul’s regression
Forgotten presence,
Compassion deterred,
Boomerang poison we berate.
Crickets chirp in syncopation,
Echo foreboding solemn chime.
A screeching song of lonely pride,
The trophy for losers of this life.
Salting your wounds,
Bled by recursion,
With every downward looking gaze.
The clock misses the mark
By only a digit,
A bitter enemy of time you’ve made.
Warning like a sentinel,
Of halting progress,
A soul in waste,
A doomed fate’s warning
Closes each day.
The gagged voice of conscience execrates
Imminent pain behind every door.
Weary and sore,
Weathered and bludgeoned,
Choking on the knowledge ignored,
Die inside a little more.
The torture is not yet done.
she
was
trapped
in
amber
the space between the notes 