How the World Should Work

I pen through pain so much it seems, write on my regret

I mull my mind for cheerful lines but sometimes these are all I get

I see the light, it’s there I know; still slightly out of reach

Forging forward on this path to practice what I preach

Perhaps Pain is my jailer, yet it fuels so much of me

I don’t know if letting go would curse or is the key

A Mindful Masochist lives within, saying to hold on

And looking back he’s laid this track so right, but also wrong

Such irony, this crossroad; as I write atop this bluff

Would this beauty; trees, the lake, say I’ve had enough?

Whispering to join them now; “we made all this for you”?

My heart longs naught but for a chance to ask Her what to do