Unto Yourself

How you hurt, but hurt’s a portal.
These wounds cry out, that you are mortal.

But as a mortal, you can see,
Oh, what can become of thee.

To be wise, to be unshaken,
In command and never taken.

How you’ve wandered off the path.
On vices never meant to last.

Pursuit of pleasure marshaled grief.
Fleeting things to moor belief.

Seems the fleeting has dissolved.
And your belief has evolved.

You let it in, through the door.
But you can’t keep it anymore.

Found without and hitherto,
The loan of joy is coming due.

Complacence finally has ceased.
So, it’s time you were released.

Away and from the other’s whim,
And on your own, however grim.

A firmer footing, a nearer center.
A truer way on which to enter.

Can’t be taken nor be riven,
That which fortune has not given.