What are the offspring of my efforts?

I sit in doubt today


That voice of resignation

To believe I have accomplished anything

In my life

My ego’s Majesty

Lords over me with impunity

A critical voice

Of execution

I am reduced in size

To that of a gnat


A fraud in Holy clothing

An epigraph of self-glorification

Pearls of wisdom

That rot in the shell


It is hard to be stripped right down

While feeling I deserve more


Where am I left

When nothing remains

Of the Holy man

Only the canted remains

Of exaggerated and neglected sincerity


I am in that place today

A vessel being emptied

Flashing a sign of vacancy

Seeking progression

Where no flow exists


It is hard to be with emptiness

While hungry ghosts

Feed off the entrails of my doubts

And nip at my heels


There is no rescue

Except the BEING with it

No reprieve

Except the execution

Of blind effort

And barren beliefs


I must face my forsakenness

Hear my cries in the wilderness


Retch this sour taste of abandonment

Upon the crusted earth

That I may find

The wholesome garden of renewal

The promised land of soul and spirit


Where I am born again upon

The rich black earth of love

Kissed by the wet lips of the sun.


-TruGuy Stefan Starhorse

Feb. 20, 2024