Sometimes when I feel inadequate
I come here, where I have erected my monument.
A brass plaque declares
my accomplishments, my deserving.
It’s a tourist trap. An old castle, king long dead.
A deserted mall. A ghost town.
Nobody lives here.
I abandon these ruins.
I come home to you.
In the candle light
there is bread at the table,
and talk late into the night.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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