Summer part two

Would  that  I could say

 I live in warmer climes

And  tall and  strong I’ve grown

 From bright  the  sun that shines.

And with sweet rain and summer hot

 Be well content with my lot

 Would  that  I could say that

This is what I’ve got.


What marks a man’s success?

His summer?

For if its wealth;

 My summer is cold and  blighted.

If  it’s the acclamation of men;

 My soil is sour.

If its peace and contentment;

 Then the winds have blown me over.

Ah what  blues dirge sings my life so dull   ?

 Could it be the green of envy

That sees my  glass half empty ?

For what is wealth  ?

 I lack  for nothing to keep body and soul  together.

  But perhaps not enough  to appease the

Hedonist within me.

And  if I had  the shouts of men,

 Would  the love of  those held  dear

 Be any the “tenderer”?

 No

 I think not,

But then my ego would be appeased.

And peace?

An illusion or imposter

 That in this world  of  guilt and  failure lies only in complacency?

But  then to train an eye of  perfection

To see inside the soul

Where guilt or failure cast no shadow

And see’s only beauty amidst our imperfection.  

So Desiderata,

 There are greater and  lesser men than I,

 So why wear blinkers to see this line Comparative;

To only  gaze too high

 Would see me at  the bottom,

 To only  gaze too low

Would see me at the top.


So yes, I am no Caesar,

 But  dear Brutus am I all I could   be  ?

Cassius would   have me blame myself

 And not my stars for being a

Lesser man.

So was it   Caesar that made   Caesar great and

Caesar dead  ?

Or was it men that made  Caesar great and   Caesar

Dead?

Or was it   fate  that made great   Caesar and   the Ides

Of  March  that made  Caesar dead?

I am, what I am, from man from me and   fate,

Neither low nor great.

  So true to summers am I.

For I’ve known hotter ones but not as bad as some.