Failure weighs heavy on those who strive,
Weakness apparent to those seeking to be strong,
Those who love, know of their hidden struggle with hate,
The gentle alone often know of rage unseen,
Ones blessed with compassion know of emptiness,
Stretched to the limit feeling brittle and dry.
The experience of being lost is needed,
The need to receive is also present,
Love is also based on give and take,
If it is to grow.
Freedom is the hardest road of all,
Often found by ways forgotten or unknown,
The way of paradox, often mocked or just ignored.
Yes also of death to ways known to lead no-where,
Leading to the loosening of chains burdensome, constraining,
No longer having the power to imprison.
The past eats us,
Future fears can paralyze,
Blocking ways to experience the present
Where freedom lays hidden waiting to be found.
The way hard but simple,
A life stripped of many of our self imposed burdens, and fears.
Depth within, something all have.
Waiting to be filled and healed
By what can only give freely.
That which we crave above all else,
Hidden from many, even denied, but there nonetheless.