In-Gratitude

Slowly seeping deep inside,
Is a stream of in-gratitude.
Swelling the marrow of the mind,
With precepts that are rude.

Infesting all of innocence,
Soaked up in evil ways.
Of him who tries a widening path,
And in whose step...he strays.

Hateful are the shadowed realms,
And honor is not won.
Where vengeful triumph passes by,
And sin is loose to run.

Taking that which is not your own,
And thinking it is yours.
Is like a thief within the night,
And breaking in the doors.

For it is to be by slow approach,
That actions make a goal.
And the worth of ointments made to ease,
The poisons of the soul.


E.P. 1908- 1989