This is our life, our own special hell.
Try as we might, we’re still doomed to failure,
with no goods to bargain, no souls to sell.
It’s all vanity; trouble’s stickier than blood.
Forget your ambitions; you might as well sail your
little paper boats in puddles of mud.
I’m not pessimistic, just being real;
our wills are constrained like pent-up jailbirds,
so it’s easier to deal if you forget how to feel.
Armour up like a knight, but stay in the castle.
It’s dangerous out there on quests for the grail; turn
back now to safety, it’s not worth the hassle.
Limit to the back yard your adventurous forays,
because heroes are heroes only in stories.
T. Allen Culpepper