The Selfish “I” – A Golden Shovel in homage to Robert Frost

 

A man who bears honor is one whose

Life thrives like the ever growing woods

Working to a code, it is these

Rules and regulations that simply are.

These rules dread the selfish “I”

They don’t require a person to think

Only to ignore the “I” 

The good that must be done is felt, you know

To continue onward for the sake of his

Neighbor. To offer up to those left behind his house

So that they may rest, is

The greatest sacrifice a man can give in

His life. If he does not, he opens the

Door for the destruction of his Village

A tragedy. If he takes the time and effort though

It will bear fruit and he

Becomes a force of Will

The obligations he made serving not

To hinder him but to help him see

The future that could exist without “Me”.

When a person gives up themselves, there’s no stopping

And despite the selflessness, they will cry “I am Here”

A declaration to

The world that he is an individual to watch

The promises to keep and the charity done are his

To claim. His own personal promised woods

With kindness enough to fill

Even the emptiest hearts up

With

A joy of light as white as snow.