The Key

I held the key of wisdom
But couldn’t understand
How anything so precious
Could lie there in my hand.

Wasn’t such a treasure
More fitting in the hold
Of hoary-headed sages
Than someone twelve years old?

That there had been an error
Was clear as clear can be,
So, on my thirteenth birthday,
I let go of the key.

In a single instant,
My life became a bane:
All I knew was anguish,
Bitterness and pain.

I loaded up with sorrows
Like cargo on a boat.
It being, though, too heavy,
I couldn’t keep afloat.

And so I started sinking
And lost the will to live,
And joy slipped through my fingers
Like water in a sieve.

And not until I’d suffered
As much as I could stand,
Did I recall the object
I’d once held in my hand.

I sought out the location
Where I had let it fall,
And there I found it lying
With no ado at all.

And that’s the thing with wisdom;
It’s right before your eyes.
Yes, anyone can gather
The key to being wise.

Just recognise your being –
That You inside of “you” –
And you won’t need to suffer
Unless you think you do.

Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

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