Perhaps I reveal too much of myself, too much of what
connects me to the history of man, the aching need, the
tremulous salivating magnet of lust too deeply buried
beneath the surface of rational excuses to understand
that one can only look at it like a mountain or an ocean
and either plunge on or look for an alternate route.  So
give me a simple path and let me have hope at least, a
thinly disguised replacement for lust, something that will
get me through another day or month or year if I should
be so lucky.  Once I walked through days like rose arbors
at a wedding, nothing but promise and peace but today
there is a bruise on my left heal and my head aches and
my heart sinks when I look into the eyes of yet another
homeless person on the street.  With every smile they
offer me, I am speared to the wall of my own limitations.
Why can’t I do more?  Why can’t I be a better person?
Why can’t I help others in ways I would help myself?

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