Summer Part two

 Would that I could say

I live in warmer climes

And tall and strong I’ve grown

From bright the sun that shines.

And with sweet rain and summer hot

Be well content with my lot

Would that I could say that

This is what I’ve got.




What marks a man’s success?

His summer?

For if its wealth;

My summer is cold and blighted.

If it’s the acclamation of men;

My soil is sour.

If its peace and contentment;

Then the winds have blown me over.


Ah what blues dirge sings my life so dull?

Could it be the green of envy

That sees my glass half empty?


For what is wealth?

I lack for nothing to keep body and soul together.

But perhaps not enough to appease the

Hedonist within me.


And if I had the shouts of men,

Would the love of those held dear

Be any the “tenderer”?

No

I think not,

But then my ego would be appeased.


And peace?

An illusion or imposter

That in this world of guilt and failure lies only in complacency?

But then to train an eye of perfection

To see inside the soul

Where guilt or failure cast no shadow

And see’s only beauty amidst our imperfection.



So Desiderata,

There are greater and lesser men than I,

So why wear blinkers to see this line Comparative;

To only gaze too high

Would see me at the bottom,

To only gaze too low

Would see me at the top.


So yes, I am no Caesar,

But dear Brutus am I all I could be?

Cassius would have me blame myself

And not my stars for being a

Lesser man.


So was it Caesar that made Caesar great and

Caesar dead?

Or was it men that made Caesar great and

Caesar Dead?

Or was it fate that made great Caesar and the Ides

Of March that made

Caesar dead?

I am, what I am, from man, from me and fate,

Neither low nor great.

So true to summers am I.

For I’ve known hotter ones but not as bad as some.

sisideas