At this same time every year
I set down my poets pen
To grab a hold of my lost soul
And reign it all back in

I  close and latch the beat up screen door
So I can still feel the open breeze
But keep out the undesirables
That have control of me

I'll sit down at my morning table
Where over life I'll contemplate
This I do once yearly
To try and set myself back straight

I turn my thoughts back to my God
Who after all is my first love
A fast of sorts to wash away the worst
Of a world that never offers enough

Like the prodigal son in the Bible
I grabbed life's riches and I fled
Until I reached the emptiness
Of the life of nothing left

I'm not talking monetary
Here today, gone tomorrow
But of the very heart of man
The root cause of my life's sorrow

I'll return after a cleansing month
If after all I feel I must
But I'll leave that in the hands of God
In whom I place my trust

I love each of you and cherish dearly
Your friendship and time you've given me
But I feel I must release these modern demons
Which I sadly confess...is even poetry