I'm a book
that no one wants to read.
I'm a rose
that's hidden in the weeds.
I'm a sun
that's covered by the clouds.
A diary
who's key cannot be found.

People aren't concerned,
and they think they know,
what lies beneath,
even though,
the current is swirling
and whirling away,
while the surface is smooth
on this beautiful day.

He asked how life was going,
I said, "I couldn't ask for more.
I love my job, my friends and family,
Always smiling, how about yours?"
He said, "Well, I got fired,
I guess I'm always late.
And my wife just left me stranded,
When she caught me on a date."

And as we sat there reflecting,
On how things have become,
He looked at me and stated,
"You sure have some good luck."
And at first, yes, I agreed.
"Yeah, good luck, I'm sure that's it.
But wait, isn't luck,
Just an outcome brought by chance?"

And if it's all up to luck,
Why bother working hard,
To finish all your goals?
In fact, why even start?
When it comes to all my "luck,"
Oh, it is no accident.
Every single move I make,
Is done with intent.

I am living on purpose,
I am acting with cause,
All the good things that happen,
Only happen because,
My decisions are precise,
And they all insist,
On bringing me nothing,
But complete happiness.

Life doesn't have to be,
"Take what you get."
Decide what you want,
And go running after it

I read
What excites,
Soothes,
Or
Makes my blood  boil.

What's in his mind?
One cup of labor
Two scoops of pain
Three scoops of lust
Issues with trust
Four cups of distress
One more for the rest
And five milligrams
of pessimism at best

What's in his heart?
One tablespoon of pride
Two teaspoons of shame
A spoonful of ambition
One third expedition
Two-thirds of abolition
A half a cup of absentee
Another half depravity

What's in his soul?
A recipe I have yet to know

I find in meditation
The realization
That classification
Is only in relation
To my determination.