Helping Hands

Why am I unable to take the right step?

Is etiquette really so important,

That you can’t reach out a hand to help?

How can you ignore human caring and need so potent?

My heart aches

And my hands itch;

But my mind doubts

And holds me back.

When I don’t fulfill my heart’s wish,

I am plagued with regrets.

I have long sleepless nights,

And days of self-beration.

So long they become soul-deep abrasions,

It keeps me thinking up all nights,

Of all my aberrations.

My days are filled with worries,

And years later, I still dwell;

On these same misdemeanors,

Endless counts have shown me my lack of judgment.

When I don’t trust my instincts,

The only hope I have to redeem myself.

The only solution I can see,

Is to help out the person next I see.

God, I can only plead

That you forgive me,

For not trusting the sixth sense,

That you have granted me.

My heart will forever weep,

At these scenes of despondency;

For those who come across me,

I want to give generously.

But fear of my limited means,

Limits me;

I keep picturing my ideal future,

Not only for personal luxuries;

But so I can do more than I am now.

Give and help to my heart’s content,

And my soul’s peace;

So that I don’t lack sleep,

And don’t have a warring mind

With conflicts buried deep.

I picture my ideal future,

Where I have peace and clarity;

Which helps me clearly see,

Those I can help in need.

Where I do not doubt anymore,

Where my mind trusts my sixth sense,

And follows my heart’s wishes;

Without second thoughts.

So forever more it comes naturally to me...