Poetry

The only time it’s better to give up

Joy

Photo by Melissa Askew on Unsplash

It is not found in our pursuing
neither in our highest highs
nor in the midst of our dreams in proving

We are not calamitous beings
dangled between the rocks
and the places in which we have no meanings

We are placed precisely in our proximities
precisely as we aught to be
Our progress not measured in jubilation’s
or how much we’ve earned in interest

We manhandle it further from our grasp
The more fervently we clutch and grasp for it
The greater measure by which we lust for it
is paralleled in exactly how distant it remains

We are most fortuitous beings
handed the deepest luck
as we need just receive what we have been agreed

We need not wrestle, nor strive
Our lot placed not in hopes nor dreams
We need not raise prayers
nor bury ourselves in sackcloth and ashes