Good

The desire to be good.

Not successful necessarily,

but to be honorable,

kind,

understanding.

That’s what counts.

Right?

I do wish to be good,

but the heart and the flesh

want what they want,

and the ego,

dear Lord the ego…

So powerful and sure,

massive and uncontained.

And yet its gossamer shell

so easily bruised.

Ostensibly spurring one towards excellence and glory,

but really only ensuring that you are forever, the ultimate preening boob.

Ah yes, to kill it then!

To kill the ego,

winnow it down,

wrangle the unbridled.

But whom could tackle such a feat??

Only the egotist megalomaniac my friend. The irony.

So as I attempt to slay that which drives me, ever careful not to slow my pursuit, forever chasing my tail, and I comfort myself (or try to anyway) in believing it’s the thought that counts.