Story peddler, word merchant,
everywhere I turn there’s a tale to be told, all urgent:
There’s an old man urchin with the same duct tape shoes
that rode the bus with me earlier today –
I guess we all must pay our dues.
Every clue, every missile,
every residual epistle,
every mountain we yet conquer,
every stone we over-turn
earns us scars and earns us badges,
every dart and all our baggage,
it is not too much to manage if we only listen true:
There is hope yet in the world still
and love when others have not e’en a morsel,
how to be so self-ensorceled and only see what’s brute,
if you’d see yourself astutely, and not think yourself minutely,
which is your sacred duty, and the only thing that’s true:
“Love your neighbor as you love yourself,”
gives you the dharma to love yourself!
And whatever’s on your shelf there is always this to think –
“I love myself.”
T’is neither selfish nor narcissitic,
because if you cannot stand yourself
why should others think your company distinguished?
And for all the damage that I’ve done, beating up this heart of mine,
With just a brief self-assurance I find I’m fine,
Sublime, in the love that is Self-Given,
a spark set within Myself pinpointed through a prism.