"Under the tree sat Buddha, meditating with his fear.
He grew to understand how to face Mara, less his habitual red ears.

The red ears of resentment,
The red ears from fright,
The red ears that pushed him from tranquility to fight or flight.

A similar story comes to mind,
One I know all too well.

The story of mine is a tale to tell,
As long as judgements forever set sail.

Leaving the moment for the past, I see a hateful boy.
Distant from the world around me, so confused & annoyed.

Transformed from my façade of impersonation, to the feeling of being lost.
Stemming from the monotonous & everlasting worriment in thought.

From mediation I understand, what red ears did to me.
The red ears transformed my thought process,
Into someone I'd grow to see.

From growth came lessons, and new habits from within.
To sit with perceived problems patiently takes courage & a half Buddha grin.

A smile to acknowledge,
An acknowledgment of growth.
For the one I was to who I've become had to happen, as if renewal were a must.

The change was essential, & shall stand the test of time,
from the old wondering & circumventing rollercoaster thought ride.

The form of wonder we know all too well, that steals us from here & now.
I wish we could all learn how to live presently & apart from the modern crowd.

Tranquility was foreign to me, however the possession of is a must.
A must that changes a boy to man, which should happen before skin to dust.

While undergoing transformation, a man will come to see,
That who he wanted to be is he, while listening under the tree.

As I sit back to reflect, I can now understand.
I understand how the test of time transformed me from boy to man."

The itch that demands,
the strong impulse which shall never end.
This battle is a constant one,
this I formulate from within.

You tore up my family,
you tore up my heart.
You destroyed the one I love most,
& you've made her want to depart.

Depart from vibrancy,
the will to live soberly.
You destructed her far past a breaking point,
& now she's a reflection of brutality.

Separated from the one who raised me;
I perceived you as so strong.
You made numerous examples of heroism,
before you let yourself fall apart.

Now your but a frail,
a withered example.
Of the one you used to be,
your present image I'm unable to handle.

Handle the transformation,
that time has made apparent.
Now I'm forced to raise you,
because your brain has deteriorated.

The pain drains my energy,
the devil steals from my soul.
I know this demand all to well,
I've had this feeling since a boy.

Now here I stand,
& I'll attempt to stay strong.
For what you've done to my family,
I'll remember until my days fail to start.

Tears come and go,
but the pain remains constant.
The child-view of life left us long ago;
after this read, its apparent.

Now here we stand,
torn apart from what we had.
You reach out to me and I grit my teeth,
attempting to forget that I'm sad.

I hope I'll able to forgive,
your selfish quest for departure.
Right now its so hard to apprehend,
& the effects feel like deep acupuncture.

The one you married can't see past,
past your current image of decadence.
The combined hatred creates your impulse to disaster,
& your destructive cycle is boundless.

You meant everything to me,
and this has not changed.
However my view of you is in shame,
and alcohol is to blame.

What you've done I can't apprehend,
and I hate myself for the same impulse.
I wonder if one day I'll give up,
because my efforts never penetrated your mental.

Days turn to months, months into years.
Your time is limited here,
from the effects of all the shears.

Your shears are permanent,
Your liver is due to fail.
However every-time you hear this,
you never seem to care.

Back to the cycle,
of your every day misery.
The alcohol has driven everyone away,
And yes mom, this is scrutiny.