AS A CHILD-ADULT

When you get to ground zero,
 When you get to the point when you're at a zero
So, after thirty, he'll pick up his soul on the stray wall
 The cruel inventory: you may change but seldom! 
He striveth in his twofold solitude
 To arrange its fragments in the expanding Time. 
These thoughts have seared my flesh
 - So publicly abused by others, when 
I left myself with intent.

I was unworthy of this foolish earthly existence,
 for I could hardly find myself. 
In a world always inquiring and inquiring 
With my mind I was trampled to the ground, 
and often with tears and begging... 
With eyes of Golgotha within myself
 I cherished suicidal thoughts. 
Perhaps I should have given up for good
 this vile, pathetic towel. 
In my hesitant, Sisyphus-believing
 I became a hesitating man 
- while that childish, protesting self
 ...often overcame my brain, 
and while it can but drum and drum
 more and more rabidly, 
my heart, with denials sometimes divided. 
I will be true to him: chubby is lovable, 
free and thoughtful, 
always unselfish in his care of detail.

Here I am past thirty 
And I'm still searching for my place. 
I deliberately try to keep it to myself, 
to see which 
The man who is a wicked fool, 
or evil when he opens his doors wide
 of the vile insidiousness, 
Which once was as much as for a bounty
 I have walked in handcuffs - 
the candle-light of honour seldom
 If it shone in truth-telling eyes. 

And like a fallible, pitiful bee
 I would wander with petal-stricken prayer
 to my dear flower, 
that may keep it for me. 
Her steadfast chalice of tenderness. 
- In my hand still I faithfully keep her friendly 
of friendly handshakes: 
I wonder if I can still trust
 after all these decades?! 
Whom meek Time has made so forgetful
 and severed 
- Would I still trust their loyalty 
In their subordinate and meek trust. 

My desires a curious one, 
But a child of pious age
 And my ideals, for that very reason, shall never fade!