The thing you wanted me to reject so badly to make me better, you said
Was a life so ordinary where the real people live
The world where money and power was both question and answer
But I ask you once more, who is it you’re afraid of?
If it’s ever gained you anything except more emptiness inside
I see you carry on digging like a dog hunting it’s bone
For that thing, that elusive thing to complete your picture
That last colour that changes the image to one of contentment
That will change the drab greys and bathe them in golden sunlight
It’s not so difficult to find the treasure you seek
Stop looking for the pot brimming with gold, riches, power
Just look for the container that looks a little battered and bruised but standing
It isn’t on view unless you take off the blinkers
It isn’t made of precious metals but looks, well, ordinary
All you need is there, the things to make you whole, heal and console
If you stop being afraid of a life so ordinary
ailsacawley 