WHEN I STOP BANGING MY HEAD UPON THE WALLS

Once I cease
to bang my head
upon the walls,

it becomes
as clear as grease,
that so to bang my head
was not
the most productive thing to do
at all.

To feed my soul,
instead, I’d need
first to hear,
and next, to truly heed
my deepest call–

to enter the world
in profound service,
and to live and manifest
my birth’s true purpose.

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This entry was posted in Medium Length Poems, Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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