THE UNBEGOTTEN SELF
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
Undeserving
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
