Success

Just a poem about how I feel about what success really is

The creation of history, the resolving of mystery,

The life of a party, as sweet as sugar, yet as coarse as barley,

Although it depends on whose side you are on,

Success seems to be the one supplying all the fun.

But what is success?

Is it only survival of calamity, survival from Death's proximity?

If life was obstacle climbing, would success be parkour with timing?

Is it only from the toils of work, or from size like the city of New York?

Is this success? Is this what it does address? Or does its definition leave humanity a mess?

Is success really dependent on net worth, on name, or on legal value?

Could it exist in anyone from white to black to those painted with a bluish hue?

Could it not be that only some truly be successful while others not?

Or maybe the above answers all that is now being sought?

But what about later, upon Death does you from Earth part?

Where only He can pass judgement on your mind and heart?

What would He see in you? What would appear?

A person with a heart of gold may seem near but only He can determine here,

Are you good? For others, did you provide enough food? Did you help crises created by human nature that are oh so crude?

Do you have a heart of gold, or is it so rotten it looks a million years old?

So World, take heed and redefine your definitions,

Your definition of success and everything associated,

Because your old values need demolition,

Because the truth must be fully appropriated.

Understand that success is only dependent on whoever is cosmically in charge,

Not defined by sticks and stones that may break your bones in this world,

So change your words so they may hurt like some should and will,

And watch as the true reality becomes unfurled,

And this will uncover a new truth that's larger than large.