Hostage

Hostage to the truth.

Not hostage to money, desires, obsessions.

Not hostage to political beliefs, points of view.

No ransom can save me.

It was my choice to go this way.

Alone in the tamasha.

Alone in the darkening world.

Alone inside samsara.

Alone outside the confusion of others.

Still hostage to my karma, helping others.

Success or failure aren’t the issue.

Just the right word can help, but did I say it?

Just a kind deed can make a difference, but

did I do it?

No trophies, no testaments, no rewards,

nothing to point to feel fulfilled…just hostage 

to an aging body and nowhere to go.

No help on the horizon, but why should 

there be? 

Just poems that get sadder as time goes on.

At least, the music is still beautiful.