The World Is Weary

The world is weary, tired, old and filled
with judgment, condemnation, fear and hate.
Inhabitants are lonely, sad, and searching
For salvation with downcast blinded eyes.

I am a venturer in this desolate land,
Having left my home to find myself.
Forgetting my true self cannot be found ,
In a world that hides my mind in sin.

My heart looks outward, seeking to ensure
I do not find. For what I truly seek
Cannot be found here. Suffering and pain
Are self-inflicted. I see what I want.

All happiness is fleeting here, and sourced,
In circumstances, which will always change.
Goals are set, then disappoint or pass,
Never reached, and by my own design.

I trudge forward, step by step, to death.
Chained to rocks of grief and shame and guilt.
Asking magic to unlock me from
My prison hell. The keys of which are lost.

Until I’ve finally had enough. Conceding
Any temporary magic balm I’ve found
is simply rubbing salt in wounds so fatal
my efforts cannot heal or save my life.

So when I’m ready to go home, my vision
Concentrates on seeing all my pain,
And how the things I used to push it further
Down, can now be used to bring me home.

And so I tell myself to choose again,
And see instead this world for what it is.
A simple mind projection, believed to keep
Me safe, and from a God who wants me dead.

Pulling back inside myself these thoughts
And looking at them calmly with my Guide,
I see instead mistakes were made, and I
Needlessly projected outward, all.

Joy arrives with me now finally knowing,
Such freedom in forgiveness of myself.
This cruel world need not be my fate forever,
A Prodigal Son returns to Heaven, home.

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