Leave Me, My Blamer

Kahlil Gibran  


I have a little heart within me

And I like to bring him out of

His prison and carry him on the

Palm of my hand to examine him

In depth and extract his secret.

Aim not your arrows at him, lest

He takes fright and vanish 'ere he

Pours the secrets blood as a

Sacrifice at the altar of his

Own faith, given him by Deity

When he fashioned him of love and beauty. 

The sun is rising and the nightingale
Is singing, and the myrtle is
Breathing its fragrance into space.
I want to free myself from the
Quilted slumber of wrong. Do not
Detain me, my blamer!  

Advise me not, my blamer, for
Calamities have opened my heart and
Tears have cleanses my eyes, and
Errors have taught me the language
Of the hearts. 

Talk not of banishment, for conscience
Is my judge and he will justify me
And protect me if I am innocent, and
Will deny me of life if I am a criminal.  

Go from me, for you are taking away
Life - giving repentance and bringing
Needless words.

Audacity of indifference

So, with temporary indecisiveness, typical to her nature, she began prioritizing things. Setting priorities at that moment, she knew, was as redundant as deciding whether or not to jump off a drowning ship for life's sake; her conscience knew what to do, already. That was one time when being tested, literally, seemed meager to her, and she chose anything but to put herself to examination.

None of the scrutiny (other than the self imposed ones) ever gave her a sense of accomplishment. She knew she'd survive, as she had before too. Knowing exactly the limits of her intellect, she, for once, was sure of her actions. There was no fear of falling as she knew she wouldn't.

She was deliberately diverted.