labored wandering
from the paths of righteousness
for no one’s name’s sake

surely goodness and mercy
have forsaken the world-lost

we choose the paths we mean to take,
but find ourselves on others;
the children that we meant to make –
as fathers and as mothers –

are born to others; set in stone,
the products of our choosing —
we can’t go back, we can’t get out,
and cannot win
for losing

My life, I lived you rich, with all the foam
That I could fill – in glasses and and in baths –
In luxuries found far away from home;
Illicit trysts beside forbidden paths —

Hypocrisy: of manner and of taste,
Of words at variance with lived-out style;
The choice is only how time goes to waste,
Each trip is only one more lonely mile

But still, to seek the glow, and wear the shine:
It is the heart of elegance and worth –
For I took yours and made into mine,
And sowed the seeds of rapture and new birth —

He laughs the best who ever really laughs,
For they are all the same, they are — our paths

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

One thought on “paths”

Leave a Reply