When I take a glimpse inward what there do I find?
This old self is an eyesore, I humbly confess.
I appear to most others as one would expect
But to me I’m perfection become incorrect
In my firmest behaviors. My life seems a mess.
Facing such a bleak sight one might wish I were blind.
While not seeing while living, one banks on the hope
That the mask of illusion that culture provides
Will maintain inner blindness as something benign.
Accepting my reality, I must align
With the truth that will free me. The spirit abides
In the clearness of vision wherein I can cope.
Looking inward is healthy. Some part of a while
On a regular basis I must look within.
Episodes of entanglements highlight my past.
What I may do tomorrow is just a forecast.
What occurs in the present is where to begin
A new lease upon living without the denial.