"A man gotta know his limitations ..." I am limited, finite and fixed. I am in terror of the infinity before me, Having come through the one behind Bringing no knowledge I can take on. I commend myself up To what is greater than I, And try to be good. That is werestling with what I have been given. Do I rage at what I have not? (Is infinity some illusion generated By the way in which time is perceived?) I try to end this pride and rage And commend myself to what is there, Instead of illusion. But the veil is the juncture Of the perceived and perception, And what in life can rip that? Is the only prayer, then, To live steadily and dully, Doing and doubting what the mind demands? I am limited, finite and fixed. I rage for reasons, cry for pity. Do with me what you will.
Reason for writing:
One too many "Dirty Harry" movies, I suppose; I haven't felt
omnipotent in quite a number of years, since I quit doing
strange, weird things to my brain (don't ask).
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Ronnie A. Herrin / Libra.