Toe Hold on the Wind

"A hundred men will test today, but only three win the green beret."
The radio gave me pause. Not everyone can gain and hold
a solid perch above the raunch and fracas of the day,
much less sustain that grip until they finish being old!

A life that never tastes the luscious wonder of the Divine,
implies an indigence, too sad and sick to elevate.
The dead who bury dead, will never know the sweet anbrosia wine
that brings such crisp and conscious thinking to one's pate.

Each moment's always new. Because of this, one's always first
in line to choose which way to go, when something screams REACT!
We have the right to turn away, but Will is at its worst,
and so one rides along to later wake, and find his pee-pee whacked.

The more detail beheld, the more that one is able to assess
complexity. Shades and angles appear where there was none.
Relationships, structures and entities all possess
distinctions unapparent when work on Self was unbegun.

Some men are glad to drink, carrouse, and search for one night sex,
Or lie about amused and entertained by stuff so stupid that
angels watching tear their hair and spin their heads clean off their necks!
Depravity in Spirit sucks as bad as a pissed-off polecat

at a picnic, does for sense based 3-D inhabitants
of Physicallity. Like sand held in a lover's hand,
the irritant stops the show. Soul's flow fills deep extents,
but not across a seedy, thorny brain, will it expand.