My Fingers Bleed

true, wealth, not, money, pursue, help, fingers
My fingers bleed,
Though I persist,
My fingers ache, just as my mind,
Inseparable from the caveats of my soul,
Crying freedom,
Yet inviting submission to the most sublime,
Countless times a day,
Dire warnings of impending doom,
Or grand designs of agape love,
For you,
I record, dutifully the rise and fall,
Of the empire of my own aspirations,
Sometimes conquered,
Sometimes captive,
Though always filled with a youthful exuberance,
That bears witness to the innocence of my soul,
Purging demons,
Or entreating the universe to let me free,
Finally revealing to me more than just the abstract Muse,
But also the one, THE one that can help me find,
The answers to questions that have haunted me,
And man itself,
Since time immemorial,
Shall I continue, fruitless, in pursuit of the most blessed design,
Shall I fight my destiny?
Or embrace her, as she so demands?
Will I be free to wander my own beliefs?
To live up to my own imposed potential,
Rather than that of those around me,
For I have been searching, far and wide,
Near and dear,
For the final piece,
To reveal the answer we all search for,
For the measure of this man,
Will never be recorded in ones and zeroes in a bank account,
It will never be measured in acres or hectares of land,
How many beautiful homes I own,
Cars or other objects of creature comfort,
Not this Warrior Poet,
Not now,
Not ever,
For the trappings of money,
Will never reveal the full wonder and splendor of the soul,
Having watched enthusiastically those on both sides of the tracks,
Realizing that the supposed wrong side is in fact the right side and vice versa,
Circuitous logic,
Rationalizations and platitudes,
Always falling short,
For my happiness in this life,
And whatever life is to come after,
Is not dependant on material objects,
But solely on one condition,
One known us all,
That of the all engrossing, intoxicating and infectious emotion,
That binds us all,
Sweet love,
Agape and requited,
For in the realization of that,
I will instantly be worth more than all the money printed,
In the history of the world,
For I will have found,
My purpose,
My Muse,
My enlightenment,
With every kiss,
From you,
Whom I zealously pursue,
With these humble words,
As betrothed evidence,
Of what’s to come.


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