Arbiter

It would be nice to be content.
On this a moment I lament . . .

What is happy, what is true?
What is this I’ve come unto?

Life where pain is a constant.
This is not what I wanted.

It’s what I got anyway.
I shoulder burdens every day.

This is how I spend my time.
Yet it seems I’m doing fine.

The heaviness of yesterday,
Is lighter now, what can I say?

Prior pain has made me stronger.
I persevere for much longer.

And greater burdens are in store.
The newer ones will weigh much more.

I think again about that joy,
As this pain keeps me employed.

What is happy what is true?
What is this I’ve come unto?

Not my body – it’s ever breaking.
Not my feelings – always forsaken.

It’s a mind and how it deals,
And as it deals what that reveals.

About a self, about this world,
About the hurt to be impearled.

The arbiter of pain and bliss?
I contemplate the truth of this.