Friday, March 2, 2012


(Older poem)

The mind worries and torments it's owner. Thoughts of what is wrong with life overcome thoughts of what is good and wholesome.


The meaning of words clang in my head like cymbals.
Wholesome. Whole.
To be whole. Complete. Nourished of soul and mind.
Some is not complete. Some means waiting for more.
Am I waiting for more? Any? Some?
To be made more whole then I am.
I am complete in myself.
Yet I want. So that suggests the opposite.
Unwhole. Wanting. Lacking. Incomplete.
Wholly myself.
Wholly. Holy.
Holy is complete and perfect. Without flaw.
Without want and need.
But I am wholly human.
We are made to need. And want and strive.
We are wholly dependent.
Is more complete than complete possible?
Whole does not mean unscarred.
I am chipped around the edges by this hard world.
But I am not broken.
I am whole. And I can be made more whole.

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