Ode to Self-Discovery

A person’s life will lead that fateful course

As a cog in the machine that exists

To drive humanity like a workhorse

Diligently completing endless checklists

Of technological tasks that don’t wield

The magnitude of human emotion

That lights the sky on the 4th of July

With vibrant colors boldly revealed.

The production of utter commotion

Neglects emotion with a heavy sigh.

 

The psyche harnesses a full library

Of tangled needs and twisted fortunes

That become human’s greatest adversary;

And humanity dances to the tunes

Of its own self infatuation.

But oh the sadness that remains unknown

Upon faces that are totally dead.

Dead to themselves, In grand isolation.

They search for connection but remain alone

With original feelings to dread.

 

So long do people ponder solitude

With all its misery and emptiness.

People suffer from great ineptitude

Their heads soaking in disorganized mess,

Unable to rid themselves from worry

As they write their books of mental duress.

But they do not access their inner strength

Or ride the waves of self-discovery

That bring them the needed relief from stress

That heeds not a soliloquy of length.

 

People must work hard to discover

The beauty that lurks within the breeze

Which whips and whirls across mother earth—her

Treasure, which transcends mere matter, to seize

The essence of every living being

In which character thrives loving and unkempt.

And how important it is to every creature

To cherish the living element, seeing

The beauty within, that noble concept

That embellishes spiritual features.

 

There is something that does grow deep inside

Every human being who walks this earth

That, with all minor imperfections aside,

Is beautiful with such intrinsic worth.

This amorphous spiritual structure

Is constantly producing character

That comes out in every damn behavior

Harnessing the decisions that do occur,

The physical body, a mere factor,

An adjustable vacant thing to lure.

 

Every single internal perspective

Should breathe the life of spontaneity,

So any person of any respective

Background can, with presence that is witty

Be in touch with their inner creation,

Watching themselves unfold in wonder

With all their needs and desires addressed;

With greed and excess in grand succession

And the lessons of life left to blunder

Within a body that is truly blessed.

 

Heed not the call of the bounding lemming

As it crashes itself deep in the sea!

Listen not to the multitude’s sounding

With its tribute to the land of the free!

Shun this mad dash for material wealth

And speak out against the rich and snooty!

This is a call to the hurting soul

Who sacrifices its spiritual self,

Boldly daring to harm comforts beauty

To feel better about virtuous goals.