Travelling through this life
focused on the prize
Our peripherals blurred, non-existent.
Setting out with the best intentions
Eyes obscured by hope and pride
These beautiful things, unseen.
Knee deep in this illimitable mire
slowed by the muck of ego
Convictions held fast, clinging.
Samsara easily provokes him
it’s grasp cold and critical
riddled by mortality, persuasion.
The route bumpy and curvaceous
maintained with reckless abandon
dreams and desires fall flat, indignant.
Losses and grief accumulate
aspirations smothered by his hubris
overwhelmed and bewildered, mindlessness.
Nice poem! Reminds me of me a lot of the time..
Your daughter wrote this, didn’t she? ;)
Seriously, though, amazing and evocative!