No Woman No Cry

It does me no good to suppress secret despair, nor does it do any good to spill it on others, for there are very few who can help me, and most don't care. I will go to my room, close the door and cry to myself. The best medicine is knowing that it won't stay long and soon will pass. A friend of mine, that I never got to meet, said that "Arrogance is almost always nearly crying." How arrogant I am and how free I wish to be from hope. Hope only brings a suppression of the present and the present is where I must reside. I want to know the business of myself, to roll up my sleeves and trace despair to it's origin. To finish it off with the sickle of awareness. To separate from what is and how I want things to be. The reality of myself in this world, truly free from the bondage of the illusory life and yes, there are miles to go before I sleep. The aura of self-confidence and self-reliance is not a dream, is not enveloped in hope and is within the reach of anyone who truly wants it. R