To deny that it’s horrible hurts so much more
Than the act ill attractive. Though wrath have I none,
I have myself to deal with and thoughts of a kind
That consume me in darkness. Where else could I find
But a hint of some reason for what has been done
To the soul of myself whose been through this before?

I must know someone’s speaking. It cannot be me.
I’m the one who observes things when I’m at my best.
But right now, thoughts are fragments that tell the story
That my mind manufactures. Personality
Is the field generated. Its flux is expressed
In behaviors unconscious so that I can’t see.

Stories of personalities of those who I
Know and love, along with those of others I meet
Intertwine and make drama – a drug for the mind
Whose unending dependence is wrongly designed
To create what it needs to. It knows no defeat
But that spark of Awareness that I can apply.

Can I consciously want all my problems to cease?
Somewhere below the consciousness it is well known
That the ending of issues will end the story.
To prevent its demise is its sole urge to be.
The Moment of Awareness is where I am shown
That which will, if I choose, yield the freedom of peace.