My Defeat be a blessing and not the despair
That I otherwise notice through everyone’s eyes.
If my dreams of world glory dissolve into dust
What on earth or in heaven do I place my trust?
If my pride I relinquish do I win the prize
Of a newfound aloneness that I cannot share?

My Defeat be a shining sword and heavy shield.
If enthronement or slavery be but the choice
Then I understand sameness. My fullness is grasped
But my soul by my life is inherently clasped.
As the ripe fruit that falls has no need for a voice,
It’s consumed without asking. What truth is revealed?

My Defeat has no weight as it clings to the vine.
It must grow to its fullness before it can fall
Or be picked by a kind one or blown by the wind
In an omni-direction that it be chagrined
By its own lack of power. Then do let it sprawl.
The dull pain of inaction is no longer mine.

The madness is integral to what is at hand.
I’m apart yet not separate from the great storm.
If I see people laughing should I do the same?
Or do I remain silent and not shout my name?
When mixed with all the others it fails to transform
The delusion apparent to other than grand.