Sticky burrs

Walking through the dunes left me with lots of prickly bits adhered uncomfortably to my sandals. Luckily this was soon remedied by a paddle.
For some reason this called to mind a poem I first heard a few years ago from Adrian on a course about contemplative prayer.
As I recall it begins ...

"Me I will throw away.
Me sufficient for the day
The sticky self that clings
Adhesions on the wings
To love and adventure,
To go on the grand tour
A man must be free
From self-necessity"

The Self Slaved by Patrick Kavanagh