not even close a rhythm established
keeps me fed for the year
sam harris wrote something I must address
this final poem seems the place
‘confusion and suffering may be our birthright, but wisdom and happiness are available.’
Is this not pessimism with a twist? An attempt at hope where I suspect he lives in cynicism?
the glass half empty instead of half full
or is it visa versa; I always get them confused
regardless I read on
          Sam has some things to say that make me cringe think despair and despise the place he comes from to talk the way he does
and yet I am unable to stop
caused as I’ve become in this reading to challenge convictions while also-
thank you Sam-
idealize my idealism.
I’ll take that and write another poem about hope today
step into the studio the castle the gardens 
praise the god of creation for whom I know not but think must be entwined in it all- 
us all-
some way or another
wisdom and happiness are the birthright
confusion and suffering byproducts 
of living amongst the many 
getting to relate.